Teenage Dirtbag
by They-Call-Me-Orange
Summary: What if Raife never made it big? INDEFINITE HIATUS.
1. Welcome to Paradise

_Disclaimer: _**Don't own a goddamn thing, kids.**

**Title:** "Teenage Dirtbag" is the story title, this chapter is "Welcome To Paradise" for the Green Day song

**Genres: **_General_

**Rated: **_**T**_ - maybe I should push it to "M", there will be drug use, copious swearing and themes of sexuality.

**Tunes: **_God, I don't know anymore. This chapter had Iron Maiden and the entire story is pretty much fueled by indie._

**People: **_Lots of folks. My betas uname and Dr. Sex Walrus really helped guide this thing, also sabbath purr helped get this thing off the ground, like, major. I'm gonna toss this chapter out to dr.evil99 and isawsparks because they're both great writers and they deserve random shout-outs._

**Author's Note: **Okay, so this was my first Spashley fic ever. Well, ever posted. I've put some oneshots up here, but this thing has been on the spashley DOT com boards for a while and it's gotten a pretty good reaction so far, so I figure I'll put it up here, too.

Another AU. Based around the stray thought "What if Raife's band never blew up?" and this is the cracked out result. You're about to read the first chapter in the Saga of TrAshley - a work of angst, late night typing, frustrating writer's blocks, indie rock bands, amazing betas, and plot bunnies that just. wouldn't. die.

Hope you like it.

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CHAPTER 1: Welcome To Paradise  
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"Spencer! You ready?"

The blonde looked up, startled. Glen frowned impatiently as he shifted his backpack from shoulder to shoulder. Clay shot her a sympathetic look.

"Oh, yeah. Sure, just let me get my…" she rose and turned to gather her things.

Glen rolled his eyes, "Starting the car. If you're not out in two minutes I'm leaving your ass here."

Empty threats, she knew, but his tone was thick with annoyance.

Spencer scoffed and slid her bag over one shoulder, grabbing an apple off the counter and making sure to lock the door behind her.

* * *

Ashley ran a hand through her hair as she observed her reflection.

Furrowing her brows in concentration she sighed heavily and decided against removing the lip piercing.

"Ash!"

She frowned, and swung open her door. "What?"

Kyla poked her head around the corner and looked generally displeased. A normal morning. "We've gotta leave like," she glanced toward the clock hanging on the wall, "five minutes ago!"

Ashley looked annoyed, "Jesus, don't have a coronary."

"We're gonna be late!"

"So?"

"So that means detention! And it's really not a good idea for you to be tardy on your first day ba-"

"And to think, I almost forgot how much you whine."

"Ashley, please, let's just go."

She sighed again, slung her backpack over her shoulder, and walked out of the room. "Fine."

Kyla made an expression halfway between a smile and a grimace and raced out the front door, her shoes clacking on the dirty linoleum.

Ashley rolled her eyes, "Bye, dad!" but the man passed out on the couch didn't hear her.

* * *

"Hey," both Clay and Spencer had opted to sit in the backseat rather than next to Glen up front. The blonde boy was being especially pissy and they felt it better for everyone to give him space.

Spencer looked up from the half-finished English homework she had been glaring at, "What?"

Clay looked pensive, "You okay, Spence?"

She frowned and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "Yeah, fine. Why?"

He shrugged, "I dunno. You just seem kinda…"

Spencer sighed, "I guess I'm still not really used to this."

He managed a small smile, "Glad I'm not the only one."

She peered at Glen as he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as they sat at a red light. He was oblivious to their conversation, lost in some song on the radio. "I don't get how he adjusted so quickly."

Clay chuckled, "Glen is the epitome of high school popularity. If he didn't have tons of friends and at least two prospective girlfriends after a week in a new setting it'd be breaking some kind of Teen Cliché Rule or something."

She tried to smile, but it felt strange.

He noticed and pulled her into a one-armed hug. "Miss home?"

She shrugged, "A little."

He nodded and squeezed her briefly.

Glen pulled into the King High parking lot.

* * *

"Ash?"

_"Women in uniform!"_

"Ash…?"

_"Sometimes they look so cold!"_

"Ashl-"

_"Women in uniform!"_

"Ashley?"

_"But, ooh, They feel so warm!"_

"Ashley!"

The older girl finally looked up, scowling. "What?"

Kyla frowned, "Turn the music down!"

_"Comin' back to London on a 747-"_

"Huh?"

"I said-"

_"Stewardess made me feel like I'm in heaven-"_

"- turn it down!"

Ashley rolled her eyes. She reached a hand out and turned down the volume, "What'd you say?"

Kyla screamed in frustration.

"Whoa! Jeez, what crawled up your-"

"Ash!"

She grumbled something that Kyla felt better off not hearing.

"Ashley-"

"Yay! Two syllables. You earned a biscuit."

"C'mon, Ash…"

She exhaled heavily but her eyes softened, "What's up, Ky?"

The other girl bit her lip, "Um," she swallowed, "y'know, are you… okay?"

Ashley's jaw clenched but she managed a reply, "Yeah, Kyla. Fine. Peachy-fuckin'-keen."

"Look-"

"No. Seriously, I'm fine. Just… didn't get much sleep last night. Sorry, I didn't mean to snap."

The apology sounded sincere enough, but that's what made Kyla really worry.

Ashley never said sorry.

She turned the music back up as she pulled into the King High parking lot.

* * *

"Hey, sexy," Madison's voice was thick and warm. Glen grinned and jogged ahead of his siblings to kiss the Latina.

Spencer and Clay exchanged identical fed up glances.

"Hi Spencer, hi Trey."

Clay frowned deeply, "It-it's_ Clay-," _he moved his hands helplessly as if it would help her remember.

She shrugged waving him off, "Whatever. Sorry, Clay."

He sighed, resigned and waved half-heartedly as he turned and began to search for his locker.

The warning bell rang. Glen pulled his lips away from Madison's long enough to groan in frustration.

Madison giggled and slapped his chest when he whispered something in her ear.

Spencer tried not to visibly gag.

"C'mon, Spence, let's get to class."

Madison's smile was inviting enough but Spencer didn't feel comfortable around the girl at all.

Glen pressed a kiss to each of their cheeks and mumbled a goodbye as he raced off to walk to homeroom with some people he recognized.

Madison rolled her eyes dramatically, "Boys, huh?"

Spencer nodded, absently. "Yeah."

* * *

"Ms. Davies."

Ashley grimaced, "Mr. Burnham."

The principal frowned, "You're aware you're skating on very thin ice right now, Davies?"

She bit her tongue to keep from saying something she'd regret. "Yes, sir."

"Am I wrong in assuming there will be no more trouble from you?"

She shook her head, carefully measuring her breaths and counting the spots on his stupid, gaudy tie to keep from mouthing off, "No, sir."

"Good," he sniffed haughtily "That's what I like to hear."

He swaggered off. Ashley flipped the bird to his back.

* * *

"… so, then I was like, 'you can't honestly expect me to go out with you if you're wearing those shoes,' and he was like, 'what's wrong with them?', and I'm like 'Hello? Don't you have eyes?', so he…"

Spencer clenched her teeth hard to keep from rolling her eyes. Madison continued to prattle on about something boring, and generic, and vapid while her gaggle of minions nodded in all the right places. Eyes wide, mouths set in the perfect expression of interest, looking attentive and eager.

Pathetic.

Spencer frowned at her own bitterness. She felt uncomfortable in her cheerleading uniform.

"So, wait, wait, hold up," Sherry gaped with rapt attention even as she interrupted Madison, "he asks you to_ blow _him? But, you were only on your, like, second date!"

"I know! Like I'd do that before the third date, y'know? God what a pig. Anyway…"

The door to the classroom swung open. A girl appeared, looking like she'd rather be anywhere but there. Brown hair that spilled in curls down around her shoulders, long, elegant neck tan and smooth. She wore black jeans, just slightly too long. They hung low on her hips, held up by a studded belt. A black and white striped sleeveless hoodie lay over a faded black t-shirt advertising some obscure band that Spencer had never heard of.

Spencer let her eyes rove over the girl's body, not able to help herself. Pierced navel; her abs were taut. A lip ring, pierced eyebrow, small flesh plugs. And a scowl that was deep enough to stop Madison's incessant chatter. The girl's brown eyes met Spencer's and the blonde immediately averted her gaze.

"Oh, great," Madison's voice held a tone that made Spencer snap to attention. "_She's_ back."

Spencer bit her lip, letting curiosity override the warning in Madison's words, "Who is she?"

The Latina scoffed, "I present to you _Trashley Scabies_. King High's resident fuck-up."

"So, she's not new?"

"Hardly. Skank's been here _forever_. Why?"

"I… just figured I would have noticed her before."

Madison shot her an odd look and rolled her eyes dramatically, "Trust me. She's not the kind of person you'd want to notice. Stick with us, Spencer. We'll keep you away from the freaks."

The girl, after exchanging words with the teacher and handing her a small white slip of paper, turned on her heel and marched diligently to the seat in the far back of the class room, to the extreme right. Far away and impossible to look at without being obvious. Spencer closed her eyes, exhaled heavily through her nose, and tried to keep her thoughts centered on something scholastic.

* * *

Lunch.

People milled about, chattering constantly, laughing too loudly. Creating or re-living inside jokes, making out sloppily; socializing.

Ashley felt hopelessly on the outside.

She closed her eyes, leaned her head back against the brick wall, and decided it was probably better that way.

Loud obnoxious laughter and shouting, and suddenly her head is connecting with the brick wall, her elbow slamming into the concrete painfully as she struggled to keep upright. She bit down hard, snagging her piercing and tugging it, bringing new pain. She opened her eyes, finding Aiden sprawled across her legs, blinking stupidly.

She drew back her foot and delivered a rough kick to his ribs, 'What the fuck, asshole?"

He grunted, and rolled off her. Out of the corner of her eyes she heard all his friends burst out into laughter, a few making catcalls and taunts. Aiden groaned and pushed himself up, "Hey, sor-"

He stopped short upon realizing who he was addressing. His falsely apologetic demeanor changed instantly, "Oh, Jesus… they let you out of prison already?"

She scowled, "Don't you have a football player to suck-off or something, Dennison?"

His friends guffawed and he glared, "Sorry, Ash. I believe you have me confused with you from two years ago."

But the comeback was lame, even to him. She rolled her eyes, elbow throbbing painfully; the back of her head felt like someone had taken a hammer to it. She kicked at him again, "Fuck off, Aiden."

He stalked off, mumbling curses while his idiot friends continued to chortle.

"Stupid bastard…"

"Hey," the voice was hesitant but melodious. Ashley looked up, saw the pretty blonde girl that sat near Madison in class earlier. She looked out of place and small in her cheerleading uniform. "Are, um… are you okay?"

The moment Ashley made eye contact with the blonde any vague notion of coherent communication left her. Completely. "Huh?"

The girl frowned slightly, "I, uh, asked if you were okay? It looked like he kind of fell on you…"

"Oh," Ashley blinked. Her cheeks felt hot. _Idiot_, "Yeah, no. I'm," she swallowed doing her best not to stare at the girl's legs or admire that desperately short skirt… "I'm fine. Thanks."

She smiled brightly. "No problem. I'm-"

"Spencer!" the girl whirled around and ducked her head when she met Madison's angry gaze. Ashley didn't blame her. She was currently operating under the theory that if you looked directly at Madison you would turn to stone. "What are you doing with… _this_?"

"Oh," she seemed to be attempting to smile at the other cheerleader, "I was just-"

Madison rolled her eyes, "Ugh, whatever. I see we need to have a talk. And you," she pointed a carefully manicured finger in Ashley's general direction, "you really should come with a warning label or something. 'Straight girls beware; do not feed predatory dyke'." She smirked as if she had said something witty.

Spencer looked uncomfortable.

Ashley shot up from her spot, swaying slightly because after bashing her head against a brick wall standing up so quickly was a bad idea. "You trying to start something, _chica_?"

She got close to Madison's face. Their noses nearly brushing. The stare down lasted about three seconds before Madison backed away slightly, desperate to put distance between them.

Ashley glowered, "Pick your fights careful, Maddy."

She swept down and gathered her things in one fluid motion.

She was walking down the hall away from them before Madison could come up with a retort.

It was all for the best, really. One more offense and Burnham was likely to expel her.

* * *

"Look, Spence, you'll just have to deal with it, okay? Unless you can find another ride, you're stuck here 'till I'm done," she knew it probably made her a bad sister, but at the moment she wanted nothing more than Glen to get beaned in the back of the head with the basketball one of his nameless jock buddies was dribbling behind him.

"But Glen! Clay left early with that guy, Sean, an-"

"Sorry, Spencer. Deal with it. Be back here at 4:00 or I'm leaving your ass here."

"I-" but he was already stomping off into the gym, joking with the freakishly tall guy behind him. "Ugh!"

She stomped her foot, not caring how childish it was. It didn't really matter because no one was around to witness her tantrum

"Whoa! Calm down there, slugger, don't fly off the handle."

Or not.

Spencer whipped around, cheeks bright red. Ashley stood there, arms crossed, looking amused. Spencer felt like disappearing. "Uh…"

Ashley smirked, "Can't say I understand you getting all crazy. Your boyfriend seems like a real winner."

Spencer felt her blush dying down just a little, "Boyfriend? What? Oh. Ew, God, no. Glen's my brother."

The girl nodded, and took a step forward. "You're new."

Spencer swallowed, "How can you tell?"

"Well, for one, you're still talking to me."

* * *

The girl was painfully adorable when she blushed. Ashley wrinkled her nose. Adorable? She berated herself mentally for the term.

"You're new," it was obvious by now.

Hadn't Madison called her Spencer?

"How can you tell?"

_Because I know at least the name of every hot girl at this school?_

Too sleazy.

_Because I notice beautiful people. I would have noticed you?_

Too pick-up-y.

_Because you're absolutely gorgeous, and uh… I really forget where I'm going with this?_

Yeesh.

"Well, for one, you're still talking to me."

Spencer looked a bit confused. Her eyebrows furrowed cutely and she gnawed on her bottom lip. Ashley tried her best not to melt. _Okay, quick. Think of un-cute things. Madison. Aiden. Herpes. Spiders. Uh… Madison._

"And who are you, exactly?"

Ashley smirked. Kyla once told her that she would make a great actress. Ashley didn't think that was quite true, though. She didn't act she lied. There was a huge difference. At the moment she was exuding confidence and nonchalance. Cool. When, in actuality, her heart was beating faster than it had in a long time, "Oh, c'mon. I'm sure you've heard all the stories by now."

Her blasé tone seemed to put Spencer slightly at ease. She threw in a small smile and hoped it did the trick.

It did.

Spencer's lips twitched upwards , "Well, I don't like secondhand information."

Ashley raised her eyebrows and held back an impressed grin.

The girl was good.

Of course, the line would've been smoother if she'd sounded a little more casual.

"Well, then I guess you'll have to learn all about me for yourself."

Was she flirting? Oh, God she was. _Fuck, back off the straight girl, Ash._

Spencer either didn't notice or decided to ignore it.

"Guess so," and there was that small grin. Ashley felt a surge of pride at her accomplishment.

She stared at the girl. Blue eyes, blonde hair, amazing smile… Ashley sucked softly at her bottom lip, deep in thought. _Fuck it. What have I got to lose?_

"So… seems that you're in need of a ride."

Spencer nodded, "Yeah…"

"Just so happens that I've got a car."

Her eyes widened slightly, "Oh. You don't have to-"

Ashley raised her hands in defeat. She hated the fact that she was so easily cowed. Wincing internally she decided to continue, despite every ounce of common sense she might have had. "C'mon. It's not big deal. How much of La-la Land have you seen, anyway?"

"Oh, you know, the usual… Santa Monica Pier, Universal Studios, the Walk of Fame-"

Ashley couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face, "Okay. Wow. You got the Disney package, that's for sure."

Spencer blushed a little bit. It was totally endearing. "C'mon," Ashley wanted badly to offer Spencer her hand, but managed to keep the urge at bay. Instead she jerked her head toward the parking lot and half-turned away, "Ditch the cheerbitch uniform and I'll show you the real L.A."

The girl's slow smile made Ashley's heart leap into her throat.

* * *

**End Notes:** Review, please. If the response is good you should get a new chapter by next weekend.

_-Orange_


	2. AN

Nothing to see here, folks. Read ahead for chapter 3.

_-Orange_


	3. Geek USA

**Tunes:**_ Smashing Pumpkins, "Geek USA" from the Siamese Dream album_

**People: **_uname and Dr. Sex Walrus - my betas who are magic and totally fucking rock._

**Author's Note: **Okay, sorry for the fuss made by the AN, hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Thanks for reviewing.

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CHAPTER 2: Geek USA  
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Ashley's car was a huge, hulking '88 Chevy Beauville (and apparently its name was Urkel). It smelt of alcohol, cigarettes, gasoline and cherry car-freshner. The back had no seats, but there was a mattress. The only vaguely modern-looking thing in the car was the CD-player that had replaced the long defunct tape deck. The car grumbled like a dying animal, but still, it was more than Spencer could boast.

They had been everywhere. Gower Gulch, the Troubador, Lake Hollywood, the Whisky, and tons of places she'd never heard of before. All with various Iron Maiden songs as their soundtrack. The ride was mostly quiet, Spencer soaking up the sights, Ashley occasionally pointing out certain points of interest, "Did you know an actress once offed herself by jumping off the giant 'H'?" "The Doors played there." "They have great burgers." "Don't go around this place alone unless you're looking to get pissed on by a hobo." "See that tag? All me."

It had taken a few hours. They were now parked in some random lot after going to a place called Pink's for chili dogs ("Trust me Spence, these 'dogs _kill_."). They were in the back of the van, Ashley had swung both doors open, they were leaning back on the mattress. Ash had finished her chili dog and was currently eating the ice from the Styrofoam cup that had held her Diet Coke. Spencer finished her meal, licking chili from her fingers.

It was hot. She was a bit sticky, but it was a pleasant sort of discomfort. Music was still playing, some grunge rock band from the 90s, now. Ashley was telling a story about a time she'd accidentally tossed a dime instead of a penny into a wishing fountain when she was seven and the subsequent attempt to retrieve it.

"So, I'm in tears, freaking out about the dead fish and my dad totally loses it. Seriously, who lets their pet goldfish go in a wishing fountain? What good could _possibly _come of that? Anyway,_ He _jumps in after me. The whole 'I'm a-comin'!' routine. By this time a small crowd has gathered, and then there are security guards _everywhere_…"

Spencer likes the sound of Ashley's voice. There was a rhythm to her manner of speaking. Almost like music. She had discarded the cup, now. Hands behind her head, eyes closed, speaking freely and with ease. Spencer noticed the way her shirt rode up, slightly. She couldn't stop staring. Every time she caught herself she felt guilty and blushed and looked away.

That didn't mean she didn't appreciate the view, though…

Oh, Jesus, she did not just think that.

"-_soaked_. And I'm talking, like, seriously they were drenched…"

She had moved her hand down over her stomach, toying with the stud in her navel. Spencer had to turn away to catch her breath.

She wasn't supposed to be feeling like this.

"-said that next time they'd call the cops. Haven't gone to a wishing fountain since."

Spencer smiled even though she'd probably missed half the story. She felt bad for zoning out so much but Ashley didn't seem to notice, although she did appear to be waiting for more of a reaction. Spencer decided to give her one. "Well, that's a bit… un-romantic."

Ashley looked adorable when she was torn between offense and confusion, "What?"

"I mean," Spencer looked away from Ashley for a minute, biting her lip to keep from smiling, "you let one bad experience sour you. No second chances? That's pretty sad, really."

"Hey, I-" Ashley paused when Spencer failed to contain her grin. She shook her head, laughing softly. It was a beautiful sound, "am totally being messed with."

Spencer just grinned and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Ashley shook her head solemnly, "Oh, Spence… you don't seem to understand."

There was something in Ashley's deep brown eyes, in the way she spoke, in the subtle tensing of her body that let Spencer know something was about to happen.

"No one messes with Ashley Davies," she was close now, her nose almost brushing Spencer's. The blonde girl's breathing hitched, "_No one_."

And then she struck.

Spencer was on her back, the other girl straddling her before she knew what hit her. Her head bounced off the mattress, she felt it dip beneath Ashley's knees on either side of her hips. Ashley's fingers were racing up and down her sides, her neck, the insides of her arms searching desperately for a ticklish spot. It wasn't too hard a search, since Spencer happened to have only one weakness: she was incredibly sensitive.

The girl was so close Spencer could smell her shampoo. It was like mint and vanilla. Curly strands of brown hair hung down from Ashley's head, brushing Spencer's skin every so often. She laughed, heartily, head thrown back, weakly pounding her fists against Ashley's assault, shrieking and pleading through her chuckles for mercy.

Ashley seized her flailing arms and pinned her wrists up by her head. They were both flushed, and panting slightly from the exertion; grinning madly with exhilaration. Ashley breathed out a laugh, "Say uncle."

They made eye contact. Spencer's breath was sucked from her lungs by something other than their playful activities. Something in Ashley's eyes. So deep and brown they were almost black. She observed the girl, hair askew, cheeks pink, smile wide and so innocent it made something in Spencer's chest beat a hundred times faster.

Ashley's smile was slowly fading into another expression. One Spencer couldn't quite get a handle on. When she spoke again her voice was softer, "Say it."

She seemed closer. Spencer blinked and realized Ashley hadn't been this near her a few moments ago. Her gaze fluttered to the other girl's lips and suddenly Spencer had a hard time figuring out exactly what was going on. Ashley's grip on her wrists loosened, her fingers sliding down the soft flesh of Spencer's forearm. It made her shiver, and goose bumps rise on her skin, and the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Spencer did the only thing she could think of when she realized the strange feeling so low and warm in her stomach was the urge to kiss another girl. She panicked.

"Uncle!" and she was grinning again, only it felt false to her. She hoped it didn't appear that way. Ashley blinked, her odd expression changing looking… disappointed? Concerned? Hurt?

But that was over quickly and she was smiling, too. She rolled off Spencer and opened her mouth to speak, "I-"

A loud chorus of "Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley bounced off the walls of the van.

They both jumped slightly. Spencer smiled apologetically and withdrew her cellphone from her pocket.

It was her mother. Spencer winced upon reading the name. Crap. She flipped the phone open and held it to her ear, "Hi, mom."

"Spencer! Where are you? Glen said-"

"Yeah, sorry. I'm, uh, out with a friend. She offered me a ride home and we ended up sightseeing for a while…"

"Spencer, really. You should know better, in a big city like this you could've at least called-"

"I know, mom. I'm sorry. I just got kind of… caught up."

Spencer dared a glance at Ashley and noticed the girl looking pointedly away, picking at a fraying hole in the knee of her jeans.

"-ink you'd better come home."

She hoped that all she had missed from that part of the conversation was a lecture. "Yeah, okay. Sure mom. Be there soon."

"Bye, Spencer."

"Bye."

She hung up the phone. It felt strange. Despite the music the van was oddly silent. Not one of the odd, yet comfortable silences she'd experienced in her short time with Ashley. This one felt loaded. She wasn't quite sure how to defuse the situation.

Ashley took over, again, "So… lemme guess, I'm psychic like that… you need a ride home?"

Spencer nodded, "Uh, yeah. That was my mom," she felt stupid for stating the painfully obvious, "she kind of freaks out sometimes."

Ashley shrugged, "Yeah, sorry if I got you in trouble."

"I'm not," she wasn't quite sure why she said it, but it seemed important because Ashley looked at her for several long moments before she grinned - for real this time - and scooted until her feet brushed the ground. She hopped out and held a hand out to Spencer. She accepted and as soon as she'd vacated the back of the van Ash was slamming the doors shut and leading her around to the passenger side.

"Better get you home," Spencer couldn't see her because she was on the other side of the car but was almost positive the girl was grinning. "I prefer that the parents don't start hating me until _after _they've met me."

Ashley's smile made all the tension in the car disappear.

* * *

When Ashley got home her father was still on the couch. His arm was tossed over his eyes, his shirt was gone, pants low so that the top of his boxers stuck out above the waistline. He was snoring softly, a sound like scratching Velcro. His left hand was resting on his stomach, fingers hovering over the spot on his stomach where he had gotten her and Kyla's names tattooed.

She smiled softly and crossed the room to stand next to him. Bending over slightly she shook him, "Dad. Hey, Dad… c'mon. Wake up…"

It took several moments and a light, backhanded slap to his chest but the man awoke. Groggily, "Ash?" he yawned and rubbed at his eyes with his hand. He coughed, grunting, "What time is it?"

She glanced at the clock, "'Bout 7."

He sat up, resting his elbows on his knees and pushing the heels of his palms against his eyes. Ashley sat next to him. Raife coughed again, heavy, wet hacking that lasted longer than she felt comfortable with. "Where's your sister?"

Ashley sank back into the couch, slightly annoyed, "Work, dad. It's a Monday. She'll be getting at about 8 o'clock, just like normal."

He shook his head, "Sorry, honey. I'm just kinda…"

Ashley sighed quietly, "I know, dad."

He stood up, slowly, "I've got work in an hour."

Ashley nodded, "I know."

He ran a hand over his eyes, "I'm gonna go shower."

Ashley bit her lip, "Want me to make you some dinner, Dad?"

He smiled. When he smiles he looks younger, healthier. More like the grinning, excited father that used to toss her in the air and catch her, and sing to her and teach her how to play guitar. When he smiles she can see a time when things were simpler. "That'd be great, sweetie."

She walked to the small kitchen, the counter that housed the sink and dishwasher kept it separate from the even smaller dining room. She heard the sound of running water, her father in the shower, and then the faint, scratchy sound of his voice. He had a habit of singing in the shower. She supposed it was a comfort. He used to tell her stories about the band he was in for a while in the 80s, _Purple Venom_, mostly about the time they'd almost got a record deal with Capitol. ("And I swear ta God… if Dino hadn't broken his goddamn arm we woulda had a deal. We woulda been huge. Fuck Ratt and Motley Crue; that was pussy shit. We were _good_.")

She frowned deeply upon opening the pantry. It was dismally stark. They'd just gone shopping two weeks ago… Granted, they couldn't afford much at the time, but there still should have been more available. It was her father, she decided. His stomach was _bottomless_. Sighing, she plucked a can of store-brand chicken noodle soup and set about preparing a meal for both of them.

She wasn't really much of a cook, but she was still better than her father. How Raife Davies managed to raise two young girls without either of them dying of food poisoning was beyond her. She supposed that poor culinary skills was simply a Davies trait. Except for Kyla, be she seemed to be exempt from a lot of the bad idiosyncrasies that Raife and Ashley seemed to share. Ashley thought that Kyla must have taken after her mother.

Soup was done, and the shower was off. She heard the sound of her father's door slamming and turned off the stove. There was only one clean bowl left, which Ashley set aside for her father before shuffling over to the sink and washing her own. They never seemed to have any clean bowls…

The sound of Raife's work boots clunking against the linoleum, heavy and solid, was something she'd become accustomed to. It was a comfort in its familiarity and at the same time it made her feel nervous and slightly queasy. As a child the sound was little more than a reminder that Raife was about to leave and she would be alone again. She blinked the memory away.

"So," he'd gotten his bowl and taken it to the table; blowing on it in a vain attempt to cool it, "Remember, tomorrow you've gotta-"

She clicked her tongue against her teeth, sighing, "Ugh. I know."

He touched the spoon to his lips, hissing slightly as the hot metal burned him, "Ouch. Uh, well, you brought it all on yourself, you know."

She sank heavily into the chair across from him, stirring her food, watching as the noodles sunk only to reappear and the strange pink chunks float and bob along the surface. Kinda ew, actually. "I know."

He shook his head but didn't lecture. He never lectured, really. It was something both Ashley and Kyla appreciated. "Y'know, Sue wasn't so bad, Ash-"

"Oh come off it," she slurped her soup. Table manners be damned, "Carter was a ho, and you know it."

He shook his head, but she knew her father well enough to notice his amusement, "You really gotta stop going through social workers like that, Ash. Bad for your rep."

She rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically at his faux-stern look. Her father was about as good at disciplining her as she was at being disciplined. "Okay, Dad. I'll try and play nice this time."

"Well, thank you," he grinned around his spoon. "So… tell me about your day, munchkin."

She glowered at the nickname, even though she secretly liked it. Except for that time in 8th grade where he'd called her that in front of her friends. The teasing went on for _months_, "Well…"

He looked up, and she knew he was listening. It made her proud and nervous at the same time.

"I met a girl, today."

He raised his eyebrows, "Like… a _girl_-girl? Or-"

"No, dad. She was a drag king."

He rolled his eyes, "You know what I mean."

Ashley shifted, focusing her attention back on her meal, "I don't think she bats for my team, if that's what you were getting at."

"But you like her?"

She scratched behind her ear, avoiding eye contact. It was weird talking about girls with her dad. "I dunno. I… I really want a friend, Dad."

Her father was a lot of things, but 'dumb-as-fuck' wasn't one of them. He switched topics, launching into a vaguely familiar story of the guy's ass he'd come _this close_ to kicking after work last night.

Ashley half-listened, grateful for the effort, but her mind was on blue-eyed girls with blonde hair and skin softer than anything.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
TBC  
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* * *

**End Notes: **Hope that didn't burn your eyes. Just a silly piece, but thanks for reading. Make my night interesting. Review. 

_-Orange_


	4. Skip the Details

_Disclaimer: _**see previous chapters**

**Title:** "Teenage Dirtbag" is the story title, this chapter is "Skip the Details" for the Knapsack song

**Genres: **_General_

**Rated: **_**T**_ - maybe I should push it to "M", there will be drug use, copious swearing and themes of sexuality.

**Tunes: **_Blur, the self-titled album. Knapsack, This Conversation Is Ending Starting Right Now._

**People: **_My betas **uname** and **Dr. Sex Walrus**_

**Author's Note: **None.

* * *

---------------------------------  
CHAPTER 3: Skip the Details 

---------------------------------

The Quad in the morning was how Spencer wished lunch hour would be like. People too busy fighting to maintain consciousness, rushing through last night's homework, or cramming for this morning's test to act like jerks. It was one of the few things Ohio and California seemed to have in common.

Spencer sat alone at table close to her English building, surveying the restrained flow of students, drifting from group to group. The school was quieter in the morning. She knew it was only about five minutes before the hallways would be clogged with a sudden influx of kids racing to beat the 8:00 late bell. But at the moment it was almost… peaceful. Odd locker-slamming and subdued bursts of laughter broke the relative calm of the area every so often.

"Hey," Spencer jumped at the voice, turning to see a tall, broad shouldered boy. He was the boy that had tripped over Ashley yesterday. His name started with an 'A', he was Madison's ex, and on Glen's basketball team. She bit her lip trying to remember his name.

"Hi," she furrowed her brow, trying to figure out what he wanted, "Aaron?"

He laughed, a bit too loudly, "I'm Aiden, actually."

She smiled a bit, "Sorry. I'm-"

"New, I know," he sat next to her. "You're Glen's sister, right?"

She nodded, pursing her lips and wondering if there was ever going to a be a place where she wasn't known only as 'Glen's sister'. "That's me."

He grinned, "Hope you don't take after him too much."

She rolled her eyes, allowing herself to smile at him. He was kind of cute. "Me too."

"Well, you seem to be holding an intelligent conversation without hurting yourself, so I guess it's not something I have to worry about."

She giggled, choosing not to comment as he scooted closer. "So, what do you think of the Madhouse so far?"

She wondered if everyone had a different nickname for Los Angeles or if it was only Ashley and Aiden. "It's… really different from back home."

"I bet," he had a nice smile, "You're from… Illinois?"

She shook her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and absently scanning the crowd; searching for a familiar face even though she knew it was probably futile. "Ohio."

He nodded, "Right. What's it like over there?"

She spotted Ashley walking past the main gates, nodding her head swiftly to the AP and security guy before gluing her gaze to her shoes and walking faster. Another girl was with her; she looked torn between exasperation and amusement. She remembered that Aiden had asked a question and struggled to answer him without breaking her concentration. Ashley had began to make dramatic gestures to the other girl. Spencer didn't have the faintest clue what they were talking about but it looked like fun. She wished she could be over there. "Uh… not much to tell, really. We lived away from the cities. Um… my grandparents had horses. Some of my neighbors did, too. And…"

Ashley had thrown up her hands in frustration and turned away from her companion. They made eye contact. Ashley grinned and winked when Spencer blushed at getting caught staring. The brunette waved happily, still beaming until she noticed Aiden beside Spencer. Her smile faded and she gestured vaguely to the lockers before turning quickly, grabbing the other girl by the elbow and pulling her away.

"What was _that_ about?" Aiden sounded suspicious.

"Huh?"

"You and the Whitetrash Wonder over there."

She frowned, "Who? Ashley?"

"Yeah," he looked considerably unhappy. "You guys hangout?"

She felt nervous, suddenly; planting her palms flat on her knees to keep them from sweating, "She's nice. She gave me a ride home yesterday…"

He looked skeptical, "She didn't _try_ anything?"

Spencer felt like she'd missed a few turns in their conversation, "What? What are you talking about?"

He bit his lip, sighing and looking away, "Nothing, Spence. Look… maybe you just shouldn't hang with Davies anymore. She's got a rep and… it wouldn't look good for you."

Spencer laughed, wondering if he was serious, "C'mon, she can't be _that _bad."

He scowled, "You'd be surprised. Look, I know it's none of my business, really. But I'm just trying to look out for you. You seem really cool."

No one had ever called her 'cool' before. She raised her eyebrows, "Thanks. I guess."

He smiled at her, "No problem."

The bell rang. Aiden got to his feet, holding out a hand for her even though she could've easily stood on her own. She tried not to think about it as he pulled her to her feet. "Walk you to class?"

He looked so hopeful that she couldn't say no. "Sure. That'd be nice."

He grinned and took her books from her.

On her way to class she spotted Ashley frowning against the trophy case. She waved , but got no response.

* * *

Passing periods were never, ever long enough.

Especially the times when Kyla decided to keep Ashley from enjoying them properly.

"Look, I told you, I can't give you a ride to work today!"

"But, Ash-"

"No! No buts. God, Kyla, you're such a loser."

"Ashley, I really need a ride today. Please? I've gotta take Nicky's shift today, and-"

"Okay, let's weigh things. Put them in perspective. Hmm… if I don't give you a ride, you'll have to call off shift, or take the bus, or find _someone else _to play chauffer for a while. Now, if _I_ don't go meet this guy, I'll be going back to juvie. You being a bit late for work or me _in prison_? Tough call, I know."

Kyla rolled her eyes, "Don't be so dramatic."

Ashley's eyes widened, her hand flew to her throat and she began to cough. Kyla instantly put her hand on Ashley's back, voice dripping with concern "What's wrong?"

Ashley coughed again, pounding her fist into her sternum. She cleared her throat, "Oh, uh, nothing I just… y'know, choked on the irony."

"You jerk!" Kyla smacked her on the back and rolled her eyes. "God, I thought you were hurt!"

Kyla's complaints were lost beneath Ashley's fit of giggles.

"Ash!" Kyla smacked her again, this time with her bag.

"Okay, okay, jeez," Ashley held up her arms to ward off the blows. "Look, Kyla… seriously, I can't give you a ride, today, alright?"

Kyla sighed forlornly, "Why are you the one with the car?"

Ashley ruffled her sister's hair, "Because I'm the one that spent two summers boiling beef in a bag at Taco Hell to save up for one."

* * *

"C'mon! Pick it _up_ ladies!"

Spencer rolled her eyes but jogged faster. Cheerleading in Ohio was different than California. Well, at least where she came from. It was a pretty conservative community, nothing like the kinds of cheers they did here. Once, her high school had made state playoffs and had a game against Cleveland, that was the closest thing she'd seen to the routines at King High.

"Let's _go!_ We're not going to make regionals if we're all flabby balls of _fat_ are we, girls?"

It also seemed that L.A. cheerleaders were rabidly competitive.

Madison's drive was almost frightening. Spencer was waiting to see how long it would be before Madison pulled out a whip and started laughing maniacally.

"I want to see some _sweat_!"

Spencer groaned.

* * *

It took nearly five minutes of driving aimlessly before she found an open parking space. It was marked 'COMPACT'. Ashley knew that even if her past court-appointed-anythings were right and she was a little bit crazy, Urkel was in no way 'COMPACT' or any one of its many synonyms.

But really, that wasn't her problem so much as it was going to be an issue for the guy in the 'upper middle class' Buick parked on her right.

She stalked across the parking lot, idly disappointed in the lack of people to glare at. Upon entering the large generic building, state seal of California displayed proudly on a plaque by the double-doors, she walked straight until she came to the weird, ferny-plant, made a right at the creepy picture of some statesman, and took the stairs to the second floor.

Room 244 met her with the same steely familiarity she'd grown to associate with it for years.

She walked in, noting the classic disturbed goth boy, archetypal troubled youth, token gangster and teen slut all taking up separate spheres of space within the room. _What is this, a cliché convention?_ She was tempted to snort at her own joke, but aware that laughing to yourself in a room full of crazies was a bad idea.

She turned her attention to the receptionist, "Hey, I'm-"

The lady glared, phone cradled between her shoulder and ear, raising a hand from her keyboard she held up a single finger.

Ashley responded in kind.

After several minutes of impatient foot tapping, unrestrained glowering, and long dramatic sighs the receptionist got fed-up enough with Ashley's behavior to end the phone call. "Are you the 3'oclock?"

She smiled sweetly, "That'd be me."

The woman frowned, "Ashley… Davis?"

She scowled, "Davies."

"Whatever. Go on back, Mr. Carlin is already in his office."

A retort seemed like it would require too much energy. Ashley settled on fixing the woman with her most I-hate-you stare as she pushed past the door with the blaringly bright "Think before you speak!" poster.

The door to his office was half-open and she caught a glimpse of a dark-haired man in a button-down shirt leaning back placidly. She hovered in the hallway, wondering about the immediate consequences of bolting. "Ashley?"

Too late.

She strode into the room, oozing confidence. She scanned it quickly, a few of the posters that every authority figure ever seemed to have thumb tacked to their walls, a few framed degrees, a… painting of Groucho Marx?

He rose to greet her, extending a hand, "Hello, Ashley. I'm Arthur Carlin."

She stared blankly at him. "How 1950s of you…"

Nonplussed, he haltingly lowered his arm. "Well, shall we get started?"

She continued to stare.

"Right. Have a seat, please."

She lowered herself onto the chair across from him, cautiously. She frowned as she surveyed the office once more, even though the fact that her seat was a swivel-chair delighted her. Biting her lip she exhaled heavily, fighting the urge to spin the chair a few times. She leveled her best disaffected glare at him and sat silently.

"Well… why don't we start with an introduction of sorts. I'll tell you something about me, and you respond with something about yourself. Sound fair?"

She didn't even blink.

"Okay. Well, I'm new to the state. Just moved out here with my family a few weeks ago. I guess you could say I'm still," he chuckled, gesturing to the fairly sparse room, "still settling in."

His smile didn't falter. Ashley began to feel nervous. Why wasn't her stare working?

"Your turn."

She glowered, "Isn't all the info you need in my files?"

"Ashley… you're more than just a file. I've only known you for a few minutes and even I can see that. If that's how your other caseworkers have made you feel then I am sincerely sorry."

She broke eye contact.

He sighed, leaning forward, placing his both elbows on his desk and clasping his hands together, "I'd like to hear about you _from_ you. Because I know you're more than a rap sheet and a few psych evaluations… So, come on. Tell me all about Ashley Davies."

Sucking on her cheek, she kicked off on his desk and finally let the chair spin.

When she faced him again he was smiling. "Okay. Well, I guess I'll start us off. Lately I've been having strange dreams about fishing…"

His voice at least made the room less daunting.

* * *

Spencer had never really understood how truly boring the irrigation systems of ancient Egyptians was until sometime after the third essay question about how the annual flooding of the Nile effected their reservoirs. Shortly thereafter fully realizing her boredom she'd attempted to alleviate it by seeing if she could balance her pencil, despite its lopsided eraser.

Roughly seventeen minutes into the exercise and there was still no success.

The sound of the front door slamming shut broke her daze. Spencer jumped, the pencil clattering to the table and rolling away from her. Her hand shot out in a karate-chop motion to stop the wayward utensil before it rolled off the table.

"Spencer?" her mother looked unhappy and out of breath. "What are you doing home?"

The girl shifted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear; indignant at the question, but too intimidated by Paula's frown to voice her opinion. "Homework?"

"Well, obviously…" she sighed, pressing her palm to her forehead, "I'm sorry honey; I've had a long day. I meant, why are you here now?"

_Because I live here?_

"Practice ended at, like, 4:00."

"Oh," Paula barely seemed to be paying attention to her anymore. She disappeared up the stairs, pulling out her cell and punching numbers as she began to shrug her jacket off. Spencer frowned, staring after her mother until she could no longer hear her mumbling.

She bit her lip, trying to put the encounter to the back of her mind as she re-read question 5 about the strict hierarchy of social sects within the Early Dynastic periods…

"… okay. Me too. Bye." Spencer looked up to see her mother coming around the corner, smiling as she folded her phone closed.

"Dad?"

Paula looked startled, "Ah… no, actually. I got a call from your father earlier, he said he wouldn't be getting in until after 5:00."

Spencer opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by her mother, "Honey, if it's not too much trouble do you think you could help out with dinner? I'd like to have something on the table before your father comes home…"

"Sure," maybe she answered a little too quickly; her mother was looking suspicious now. It was time to backpedal, "I mean, I know we haven't had much time together lately, and this stuff is so easy it gets a little boring…"

Paula smiled, "I told you: you should have let me try to get you into those honors classes…"

Her plan was terrifyingly close to backfiring.

"So, what are we making?"

* * *

Arthur's laughter was booming, it seemed to shake the air between them, "Really?"

Ashley grinned, pleased at entertaining. "Yeah. Oh, man, I couldn't believe it. But she just… hurled all over this guy's shoes," she snickered, "And then he's all pale just staring at 'em… a-and Kyla's still looking kinda green but she's like, 'I guess that means no second date?'"

After several moments Arthur had calmed down enough to brush his palms against the corners of his eyes. "Oh, wow. Your family seems rather… odd, Ashley."

She bit her lip to restrain her smile, "Yeah."

"But you get along with them well, right?"

"Well, of course. I mean, Kyla can be so annoying sometimes, but she means well. I think. She's pretty cool as far as little sisters go. I mean, she puts up with my crap. And dad…"

Arthur tapped his pen against his lip; a nervous habit.

"He _tries_, y'know… and, that's more than a lot of people can say, I guess and-" she paused, looking suspicious. "Was that one of your 'therapist tricks'?"

He smiled and shrugged. "No, that was one of my 'father tricks'."

She rolled her eyes and sat back, exhaling and glancing at the clock on the wall.

He caught her looking. "We're almost done here. Have you got someplace to be?"

She shrugged, playing with the buckle of her belt, "Not really…" Which was a lie because she had work at six.

He smiled before sighing and running a hand through his hair. "Well, as much as I hate this part there's some stuff we have to get out of the way."

She bit her lip, anxiety making the hairs on her arms stand up, "What do you mean?"

"How've you been? Any strange… feelings? Urges?"

She sat, silent and wary, as if he would leap across the desk and throttle her at any minute.

"Ashley, you've go to answer these kinds of questions for me. I know, it's lame and it's terrible that you're in this situation. But, I work for the state, and I have to prepare a report for your parole officer every month. If we don't get this stuff cleared up and out of the way there might be problems. You did this with your last caseworker," he flipped open a folder, eyes skimming the paper inside, "Ms. Carter."

"Ugh," Ashley threw her arm dramatically over her eyes as she leaned the chair back as far as it would go, "the Sea Monster."

He chuckled momentarily, "C'mon, we'll get this done as quickly and painlessly as possible. Like… ripping off a band-aid."

She nodded reluctantly.

"So… how are you?"

"Can't complain."

He scribbled something. Curious she leaned forward, trying to read. Noticing her looking he flashed her the pad, not appearing to notice her look of shock. She couldn't read a damn thing in that man's chicken scratch, but every time she'd tried to see what Carter was writing she'd been glared at and told to Sit Back Down, Please.

Sitting back, bemused she toyed with the small, plain metal band around her pinky.

"When's your next meeting with your probation officer?"

She sucked on the piercing through her lip, "Um… next Sunday. At, like, 10:00."

He nodded, pen scratching the lined surface of the pad again, "Drug tests every other week, correct?"

"Yeah."

Scribble.

"Have you received any treatment, recently?"

She looked up, confused. "What?"

"For your Hypomania."

Ashley winced, biting the inside of her cheek until she tasted copper, "Uh… no. Not really…"

Scribble. "Why not?"

She ran her tongue along the wound in her cheek. "I dunno…"

"Ashley?" He sighed, rubbing his temples, "I can tell this topic makes you uncomfortable, and I'm sorry I have to bring it up. But, I need to know if you've been experience any difficulties due to your condition, or symptoms of a pending Hypomanic episode."

"I've been fine, okay?"

"There's no need to snap, Ashley. I'm sorry, maybe this is something we should have talked about before I started prying," at her silence he exhaled heavily and continued, "Have you been treated before?"

Closing her eyes, "Yes."

Scribble. "With what?"

She bit down on her thumb nail. "Depakote. Lithium, once."

Scribble. "With what results?"

"I felt like shit and I hated it."

He paused from writing, peering up at her sympathetically, "Off the record," he sat the pen down, "Are you okay, Ashley?"

She shrugged, "Fine. Let's just get this done."

"If that's what you'd like… are you currently being treated?"

"No."

"When was your last Hypomanic episode?"

She mumbled something unintelligible.

"Ashley…"

"Last month."

He paused, "The night of your arrest?"

"Yes." Her voice sounded surprisingly like her fathers when filtered past clenched teeth.

Scribble.

"Do you…" he trailed off, observing her. She wouldn't make eye contact. Fidgeting constantly, displaying a number of nervous habits; breathing a bit erratically. Arthur frowned, wishing there was something he could do to comfort the girl, but his job put limits on just how personal he was able to become with his clients. "I think that's all we need to do today."

She looked up, glancing from him to the clock, "We've still got like… ten minutes."

"I know."

She clenched her fists, uncomfortable. Was this him taking pity on her? She didn't need that. Fuck his pity. She stood, "Fuck, I don't need to waste my time here, then."

He rose, reaching out a hand, "Ashley, please-"

"Guess I'll see you next week."

Oddly, the dramatic exit complete with hunched shoulders and door slamming didn't make her feel any better.

--------------------------------  
TBC  
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**End Notes:** Review, please. Also, if you don't know what Hypomania is... wikipedia it or something. It's useful.

_-Orange_


	5. Stay Where You Are

_Disclaimer: _**See previous chapters.**

**Title:** "Stay Where You Are" from the Sleater-Kinney song.

**People: **_Lamb, this one's for you. Sorry I haven't kept as in-touch as I should have. _

**Author's Note:** Okay. I was bad, and didn't update last weekend like I should have. So, now here's two.

* * *

--------------------------------------  
**CHAPTER 4: Stay Where You Are**  
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"… because Point Guard is such a lame position. I mean, I'm sick of having to…"

Aiden, no matter how nice to look at, was quite possibly the most boring boy she'd ever known. The worst thing about it was that he was completely unaware of this fact. He also had a fairly large lung capacity. Spencer had given up paying attention and was now attempting to count the tiles on the ceiling. Did half-tiles count?

Never before had she wanted the lunch bell to ring as badly as she did then.

"-second string? No. Not even when I was a freshman, I mean…"

Some deity must have taken pity on the miserable but pretty blonde girl next to the droning basketball player, because before he could launch into the finer points of chili night at basketball camp the bell rang.

"Sorry, Aid. I've gotta…"

She gestured vaguely in the direction she knew was opposite of his usual lunch table. He frowned, standing up and beginning to protest, "We're not having lunch today?"

She bit her lip, fighting back a wave of guilt. She liked him, but not enough to endure his lame stories. Not today. "Sorry, I've just… Mr. Simmons wanted me to," she began to mumble, realizing she should have figured out a believable lie earlier. She made sure the word test was fairly recognizable. "Shoot," she glanced at the clock on the wall, "if I don't get there soon enough I'll have to do it tomorrow."

"Oh," he nodded , looking as if she'd just kicked his puppy. She gave him an uncomfortable smile. "Okay, then, I guess…"

Pity got the best of her and she granted him a quick hug. "I'll catch you some other time, okay?"

He smiled and waved. She turned quickly and jogged around the corner. She was a few lockers past the Quad before she realized she didn't know where she was going.

Next time she decided to dupe Aiden she'd make sure she had a plan.

* * *

Kyla was doing some lame, lunchtime rehearsal or whatever with the Drama Club.

This left Ashley to contemplate just how to spend the lunch hour. She could go find a dark corner, glare at those with food and generally look disgruntled. She could attempt to intimidate people into sharing their lunches, but that would require interaction on some level. Picking a fight with Madison and her bitches would normally be acceptable, but Burnham was breathing down her neck and she didn't feel like explaining to her probation officer why she was expelled. None of the teachers liked her enough to let her use their classrooms…

She could always go out for lunch.

'Closed Campus' only applied to those lesser beings that didn't have the brain cells it took to get passed the security guys. And Joe Dirt could be bought off with a pack of cigarettes…

She was a few lockers past the Quad before she realized in order to buy food she'd need money.

Mumbling curse words she turned to leave before she noticed the familiar blonde leaning against a locker and pouting in a way anyone that wasn't Ashley Davies might have described as adorable.

* * *

The moment she felt eyes on her Spencer's head shot up and she surveyed the corridor that had been empty just moments earlier. Ashley stood a few feet away, staring at her with an odd look on her face and her backpack slung over one shoulder.

"Ash?"

She blinked rapidly, winced and slowly inched forward. "Uh… hey."

Spencer frowned, "Hi. Where've you been? I didn't see you all day yesterday." Except for that time in the halls that Ashley had blatantly ignored her. Maybe if she didn't bring it up they could pretend like it never happened because thinking about the possible causes behind that response, or lack thereof, made Spencer feel sticky and nervous.

Ashley shifted, scowling a bit, "What do you care?"

Her jaw dropped slightly, before she could combat the reaction and she winced internally. Had she done something to make Ashley mad? The thought made her upset. She didn't want Ashley to be mad at her. She wasn't entirely sure why, but she knew that she really didn't want Ashley mad at her. "Because you're my friend… or, I thought we were, after…"

Ashley softened slightly but remained silent.

Spencer tried a different approach, taking a few steps closer and pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "I had fun yesterday, and I thought that… I thought maybe you did, too…"

Ashley sighed, looking pained briefly. "I did. I guess. I mean, it was an above-average day…" at Spencer's frown she smiled a bit in the way that made her nose crinkle. The way that made Spencer's stomach fill with butterflies and her palms feel kind of sweaty and her face a little bit warmer. "Totally above-average," she amended.

Spencer smiled shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and glancing briefly at her shoes. Gathering her courage and exhaling slightly, "So… I was thinking we should do it again sometime… maybe. I mean, if you want to."

She spared a glance at Ashley who was frowning and biting her lip. When Ashley met her eyes Spencer flushed and looked away and wondered what exactly was wrong with her and why she never really got this way around anyone else.

Still, Ashley hadn't answered and Spencer was beginning to get nervous so backpedaling seemed like a nice solution. "Uh-"

"I don't think so."

Spencer winced, and wished she could redo the last 30 seconds, because maybe if she hadn't been such a spaz Ashley would have accepted. Or maybe, she could have avoided the awkward moment all together by making small talk and politely excusing herself because really, Aiden wasn't so bad, even if he got a bit annoying.

"Oh…" she felt like a complete idiot. "Um… okay, I guess I'll-"

"Wait!" it was abrupt and probably a little louder than Ashley intended because they both appeared startled by the command. She blushed and looked around nervously, "I mean… I've got work. Today. After school, and…"

She paused and sighed. After a few moments of muttering to herself and pushing a hand through her dark curls Ashley mumbled, "Fuck it," and eliminated the distance between them. She swallowed thickly, Spencer watched as the muscles on her neck dipped and rippled with exertion, "Let's get out of here."

Spencer blinked, "What?"

Ashley looked around furtively, "You said you wanted to hang out."

"I do, but…" she sighed painfully, "It's the middle of the day! I mean-"

"Spencer," there was something in the way Ashley spoke that made Spencer's protest seem trivial childish. And suddenly her hand was on Spencer's shoulder, and then it was sliding down her arm, and then their fingers were laced together and she was so close that Spencer could smell her, and all she could think about was the van and that look on Ashley's face and Spencer wouldn't dare open her eyes because she knew it'd be there again and she wasn't sure what it would mean and that scared her. "Come hang out with me."

She shouldn't. She really shouldn't. She was a new student, it'd reflect terribly on her if she skipped before she'd even been in the state a month, and if her parents found out she'd be in major trouble, and she'd never _ditched class_ before, and none of that seemed to stop her from saying-

"Okay."

* * *

Spencer's house was nice. Two stories, a dining room that _wasn't_ just a slightly larger kitchen, three bathrooms, and a gigantic TV that could be viewed from the plush leather couches in her living room. She lived with her two brothers and their parents. Each of the Carlin kids had _their own bedrooms_ and apparently always had; a fact that made Ashley slightly bitter. She only stopped sharing her room with Kyla last year when her father cleared out the attic and moved his shit up there; leaving his former room for Ashley.

But she tried not to think about these things. She also tried really hard to keep from focusing on the mental list she was creating (subconsciously, she told herself) of all the shit she could be lifting. She thought about sharing this with Spencer, but realized that hearing that your new friend had to make an active effort not to steal from you probably wasn't something the Ohioan would find as funny as her.

She was currently in the bathroom that joined Spencer's room with that of her brother Clay, touching up her makeup. Earlier, in the course of their adventures (which included grabbing sushi and diet coke, stopping at a record store, and a quick run to Venice to show Spencer the "POP Graveyard" - but not for long because that place got down right fuckin' scary, and as much as Ashley loved thrills, getting raped and murdered wasn't really her idea of a good time) she'd ended up laughing (Spencer, at times, was an adorable goof and in the course of one of her many "One time, Glen…" stories she'd ended up shoving French fries in her mouth and making walrus noises) so hard that her eyes watered a bit and it made her mascara smear a little around the edges.

Now she was listening to Spencer prattle on about… a bunch of stuff, really. She wasn't entirely sure, because it seemed that a lot of the time Spencer only spoke for her benefit - she was the only person Ashley had ever met that could carry on an entire conversation by themselves (aside from Crazy Tina in Los Padrinos - but the way Spencer did it was simultaneously less frightening and more adorable). Normally, such constant chatter annoyed Ashley, but under these circumstances she decided she would allow it.

"So…" Spencer's voice floated in from the other room. Ashley could tell that whatever was about to be said was directed at her, therefore actually listening would be a good idea. "Did you give him your phone number?"

Ashley paused briefly, frowning and wondering how the rest of their conversation would play out. In a way she was a bit disappointed; their nice, uncomplicated friendship had been nice while it lasted. "No!"

She turned so that the small of her back was pressed into the marble counter of the sink and clenched her fingers around the edge. She looked down and watched as her knuckles turned white from the strain and tried to concentrate and the rather shabby grouting by the bathtub.

"He was_ so_ into you," Spencer voice had a teasing lilt. Ashley could practically_ hear _her grin, "And _covered_ in tattoos!"

As if that was supposed to make up for the Y-chromosome.

She looked back at her reflection, exhaled heavily, and walked back towards Spencer's room, hovering just outside the doorway. "Whatever."

"What, you're… not into that?" Ashley forced herself to move into the room, crossing the distance between them by sliding over Spencer's bed.

"Ah, no," she laid a tentative hand on Spencer's shoulder, sliding it down her arm as she spoke. She couldn't help leaning in. The blonde seemed to have that affect on her, "Not exactly."

There are some moments that are just… charged. The brief pauses between life-altering experiences. The slight anticipation that comes with the knowledge that something is about to change forever. They're terrifying and exhilarating at the same time and it's almost too much to bear. Time seems to freeze, or at least slow down a bit. Details become excruciatingly prominent. The faint music in the background (something vaguely indie pop and not too terrible), the plush cotton comforter on Spencer's bed, the soft feel of the girl's skin under Ashley's fingers that made her throat seize up just a bit, and the way that her breathing came in slightly faster puffs of warm air that Ashley could feel against her arm as Spencer turned to make eye contact. The rest of the world melted away.

But those moments are incredibly rare, and even more brief.

Ashley swallowed back a wave of panic, "You see… uh, I mean, if you haven't… if it's not painfully obvious already I'm, uh, kinda gay. A-and, when I say 'kinda', I mean 'really.' And by 'really' I mean 'really, _really _super-gay.' Like… 'I'm-a-lesbian'-gay. Like, 'boobies-make-me-happy' and 'stubble-is-gross'-gay. Uh… n-not like… not like 'I'd-go-gay-for-Angelina-Jolie'-gay. Not subtext-y gay. No, like… real, raging gay… gay."

She exhaled a bit, wondering if the erratic, almost violent machinegun pounding of her heart was as loud to Spencer as it was to her. Ashley's face felt hot, and her clothing was too tight, and that 10x14 print of a standard Bible Scene (complete with standard Bible Quote) that hung on Spencer's wall (right by her poster of Tom Welling and _why_ was she only noticing these things just _now_?) was suddenly much, much larger and infinitely more terrifying.

Had she not been bracing herself for a slap to the face (or maybe just a spritz of holy water) she might have been disgustedamusedfrustratedconfusedpissedthehelloff by the reaction she was having to Spencer's… non-reaction. It was strange, really. She had never really cared what others thought of her. In fact, she almost enjoyed forcing people to confront her sexual preference. Challenging them; pushing the boundaries of their "social progressiveness". The sense of power that came with abruptly severing ties with someone who appeared hesitant. The sucker punched look on their faces as they stared at her (disgusted, shocked, et cetera) until she took the final step and ended all future communication with a rude gesture and a "so, tell your mom to stop calling me, Fuckhead."

Only she didn't want to stop communicating with Spencer.

She didn't want to sever all ties with Spencer.

In fact, she was fairly certain she'd go to great lengths to prevent such things.

But the big, gay cat was out of the big, gay bag(closet) and there wasn't much she could do but calm her breathing and wait for Spencer to-

Her hand.

Ashley's _fucking hand _was still on _Spencer's arm_ and, fuck, if that didn't explain why the girl didn't look so much like a fucking deer in the headlights.

She jerked the offending appendage back, perhaps too violently mentally berating herself with language foul enough to make her father's ex-con drinking buddies blush. It was awkward, and she knew she was probably flushing bright pink, and her hands wouldn't stop shaking but it seemed just enough action to snap Spencer out of whatever freaky trance-thing she was in.

She opened her mouth to speak but Ashley cut her off; words pouring out of her mouth so quickly she didn't even have time to wonder where they came from.

"That wasn't me… Y'know, I wasn't, like…" Ashley's voice was desperate but she'd kept it from cracking and really, to wish for more would have been greedy.

Spencer only met her eyes briefly but nodded, face bright pink.

Ashley flopped back onto the bed, hands splayed across her face with enough room to peak out between the fingers on her right hand. She exhaled heavily. Frustrated, "Shit."

Spencer stood slowly. She looked momentarily conflicted before sitting down on the bed. She was a good deal away from Ashley, but the brunette liked to take the fact that she hadn't bolted from the room screaming as a good sign.

"Fuck," she breathed. Slightly louder, "I freaked you out, didn't I?"

She heard Spencer draw in a shaky breath before sighing, "No, no…"

Ashley groaned. In that moment, she decided that any lingering doubts she had about the existence of God were cleared up. Because, if He had been real surely He would have responded - _somehow_- to the many fervent prayers of a frantic 17 year old girl. Really, was invisibility too much to ask? Time Travel? Spontaneous werewolf attack?

The bed dipped and then Spencer's soft, soft hands were gently peeling Ashley's sweaty ones from her face. And Ashley's eyes were still screwed shut because she was afraid of what she'd find once they opened.

"Hey, look, you didn't freak me out-"

_That _was enough to get Ashley to make eye contact. She fixed the blonde with her most You've-got-to-be-fucking-kidding-me look. Spencer ducked her head a little and blushed. Her smile was shy but sweet and it made it _really_ hard to be this close to her. "Okay, so… maybe you did. A little."

Ashley sat up, resting her elbows on her knees and rubbing her forehead. She sighed once more, "Look… I'm sorry, Spence. Just… it's not_ that _big of a deal, right?

* * *

"I'm sorry, Spence," and every time Ashley called her 'Spence' a little flash of… something, raced all through her body. Spencer wasn't sure if that was a good thing. "Just… it's not_ that _big of a deal, right?"

Spencer couldn't figure out her words, so she decided she'd rather make a fool of herself by being silent and staring at Ashley than make a fool of herself by speaking without tact and saying something utterly stupid. She noticed the way Ashley's eyes kept floating over to the corner. She followed her line of vision and realized that the faux vintage poster of Thessalonians 3:3 (_But the Lord is faithful; he will strengthen you and guard you from evil)_ that her grandmother had given her for Christmas some years ago was the thing that made Ashley appear on the verge of disregarding the two-story fall and diving head-first out of Spencer's window.

She looked so nervous and small and Spencer wished _so badly_ that she could actually say something because she knew the longer she stayed silent the more Ashley would be tearing herself up inside.

"So, you're… you're not, like, the kind of person that takes _everything _the bible says literally, right?" Ashley squeaked and Spencer blinked hard; snapping out of her daze. She turned to respond but Ashley wasn't quite finished. "Cause, I mean, Y'know, it'd suck to end such a spectacular friendship with, uh, you, um, stoning me."

_Leviticus 20:13_ and Spencer was suddenly overcome by waves of guilt. "No, no. Ash…"

She was becoming increasingly frustrated with the fact that she couldn't seem to get her mouth to work right. It wasn't that big of a deal that Ashley was gay. A lesbian, in fact. No, it didn't matter because -  
(_Leviticus 18:22 Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination.)_  
-she was still a person, and it was the 21st Century. Spencer wasn't so small minded-  
("God makes His views on homosexuality very clear. It is a sin. And should you happen to come across such a person, remember that he should be in your Prayers. Because God hates the Sin not the Sinner. And if one of his flock, should stray…")  
-that she would treat Ashley any differently.

"Look, it doesn't… bother me, that you're…"

"Gay?"

"Right," _Spencer you idiot, you can't even say it_, "I was just… surprised."

Ashley didn't look too convinced. Spencer scooted closer, "It doesn't change how I feel about you."

Spencer wanted to see about investing in a brain chip. One that could, perhaps, detect stupid sentences and give her a mild electric shock before she had a chance to speak, because she was certain that she couldn't have used worse wording if she had actively _tried_. And Ashley was looking at her strangely and Spencer was blushing and she decided to speak quickly, before Ashley had the chance to ask what Spencer meant by 'how I feel about you' because Spencer couldn't answer that question. Felt probably more confuseddisturbedupsetembarrassedscared than Ashley did.

"I mean, you're my best friend, Ash."

And that was _exactly_ what she should have said the moment Ashley told her she was gay.

* * *

Ashley shut the door with her foot, groping blindly backwards until she managed to lock it; remembering too late that Kyla sometimes went to bed before Ashley got home.

She managed to catch herself before she felt guilty, because it wasn't _her_ fault that Kyla was a total dork.

She sighed, refraining from tossing her keys onto the counter despite herself. The blue-white glow around the corner indicated that her sister was probably up watching TV. Ashley grabbed two bottles of water from the refrigerator and walked into the living room.

She was tired and really nothing sounded better than a long shower to wash all the animal-stink off (not just the various would-be pets at "Petastic Paradise" - Dougie, apparently, bathed in cheap "cologne"), and then pass out on her bed watching Conan O'Brien after giving up on finishing homework.

But, Kyla was indeed still awake (wrapped up on the couch with a flannel sheet, and gazing at the glowing screen with rapt attention) and Ashley hadn't seen much of her that day. Besides it was, after all, her big-sisterly-duty to put in at least a few moments of face-time with the girl; lest she shrivel up from cool-deprivation.

She dropped onto the couch next to the girl, wordlessly handing her a bottle of water and accepting the offered blanket. She turned her gaze to the television. "Buffy?"

Kyla nodded, eyes darting from the TV to Ashley, briefly. "Yeah. Oz is going all werewolf on Tara."

Ashley nodded but quickly found it hard to concentrate on the show because every other thought she had was in some way Spencer-related. Her _best friend_. It felt strange to use the term. She liked it, though. She liked it a lot. In fact, she was pretty certain that she lo-

"Okay, what is up with you?"

Ashley blinked hard and realized she was beaming like an idiot. "What are you talking about?"

"You! With that dopey grin on your face!" it might have been a stinging remark if Kyla hadn't delivered the line with her own stupid smile (the kind that used to get Ashley to give up _her_ ice-cream-truck money so that Kyla could by the stupid Barbie-thing at the dollar store). "What's got you in such a good mood, sis?"

Ashley scowled, "Don't call me that."

"Sorry," it was an automatic response and obviously a lie but neither of them cared. Kyla muted the TV and shifted so she could gauge Ashley's face for reactions more intensely. "Seriously, usually when you get home from work you're all 'Kyla, you loser - make me a sammidge!' or you don't even do that, and just head straight to your room and put your music on really loud. So, seriously, what's got you all-"

Ashley took a brief moment to convince herself that she was not amused by Kyla's imitation of her. It wasn't really that funny. "Nothing. I just like this episode."

Kyla rolled her eyes, "C'mon."

"It's true!" she took a sip of water and turned up the volume on the TV to prove her point, "Willow and Tara lez out - what's not to love?"

Kyla scoffed but dropped the topic.

But the suspicious glances that the younger girl shot her way lasted until the episode ended and Ashley stalked off to the shower after Kyla said she smelled like she'd been swimming in Axe.

-------------------------  
**TBC**  
-------------------------

* * *

**End Notes:** Okay, the 4th and 5th (I think) scenes were based off the Spencer's Bedroom Teasers from way back before s1. Why? Because I'm a fucking rebel and decided to break my own angle of mirroring canon events in a non-canon setting. Also, the teaser always looked way more interesting than what actually happened on the show. Or maybe the abrupt ending just made it seem that way. The world may never know! 

Feedback?

_-Orange_


	6. In Between Days

_Disclaimer: _**see previous chapters**

**Title:** this chapter is "In Between Days" for the song by The Cure

**People: **_My betas **uname** and **Dr. Sex Walrus**_

**Author's Note: **An OC is being introduced in this chapter. I'm not a big fan of OCs, but there will be two in this story and they're only here because they're essential to the plot. This character is meant to take on a few of the better roles Aiden had in season one. Also, there's some language that will be present, potentially offensive. Don't take it too seriously, guys. It's not bigotry, it's self depreciation. All in good fun.

* * *

-----------------------------------------  
CHAPTER 5: In Between Days  
----------------------------------------- 

"Spencer!"

Madison's 'In Charge' voice reminded Spencer of the shrill cry of some intimidating bird of prey.

But after almost two months at King she'd managed to build up a bit of resistance. She didn't flinch every time the Latina shrieked. She turned to face the table full of cheerleaders, trying_ really _hard to keep the smile on her face. "Uh, hey Madison."

"Where are you going?" and she could tell right away by the other girl's tone and the look on her face that this was not going to be a civil conversation.

Spencer swallowed already having an a good idea about what the ensuing conflict was going to revolve around, "Um, I was going to go eat lunch-"

Madison smiled sweetly, "Well, why don't you eat with us, Spencer?"

"Uh," she gestured to the other end of the Quad, feeling her palms begin to sweat; she pressed them flatly against her thighs and forced herself to maintain eye contact, "I already promised Ash I'd-"

"Ashley _Davies_?"

Spencer's brows furrowed because everyone at that table knew she was talking about Ashley Davies. "Yeah."

"You know, Spencer…" Madison had too much confidence in her acting abilities because the 'concerned friend' look on her face was about as authentic as the 'designer bags' Spencer's aunt had once picked up at a Swap Meet. "I like you. You're sweet, and I mean, you're my boyfriend's little sister… it's just that people are starting to _talk_."

_People like you? _But Spencer didn't dare ask.

"And what are they saying?"

Madison frowned deeply, not expecting an actual _response_. "Look you're just… you're spending way too much time with Davies. She's a… she's a _dyke_, Spencer. Carpet-muncher, queer, muff-diver,_ chiluda_. Big. Ol'. Lesbo. She's ga-"

"I know, Madison."

"Then why-"

"Because she's _my friend_."

"Yeah, well," she pretended to examine her nails, "_some people _are starting to think it's _more_ than that."

Spencer rolled her eyes and turned on her heel to leave. Wasn't California supposed to be super liberal or something?

"Spencer!"

She wasn't quite sure why she even bothered acknowledging Madison, "What?"

The girl got up, grabbed her by the elbow and spun her around, "Look. Davies has a reputation. Seriously, she breaks in girls, Spencer. And not just that, I mean, gayness aside - the chick is fucking _psycho_. Seriously, like, a few months ago she went crazy. She fucking, like, stole a car and tried to off herself at an overpass. The cops had to-"

But Spencer was already walking away.

* * *

"So, things are going pretty good for you, then?" Arthur sounded pleased.

"Yeah," Ashley realized she was smiling and managed to stop before she looked _too _happy. "It's just kind of… I dunno, I never really had this before. It's weird."

"It shouldn't be," somehow the way his soft blue eyes always seemed to shine a little kept any conversation from getting too… serious. Ashley decided he was the complete opposite of every social worker she'd ever had. It was pretty cool. "The fact that being… content, with your life seems strange to you is, well, strange to me. But… I'm sure you'll get used to it."

"Hope so," and there was a brief moment of silence and Ashley was grateful for it. She never really had this with anyone. Kyla was always talking, and silence made her father uncomfortable.

Arthur grabbed a bright yellow stress ball out of his top desk drawer and tossed it in the air a few times. "And how's work?"

He threw it to her and she caught it easily, squeezing it softly as she answered, "Ugh, lame. Like, the other day Leon got this new order of these stupid, creepy lizards in. One of the lil' fuck-" she paused, "uh… jerks, bit me."

She shifted the ball to her left hand and thrust her right palm out so he could see the faint half circle of reddish dots by her wrist. Once he nodded sympathetically she dropped her arm and tossed the ball back to him. "What about you?"

It was a sort of game Arthur came up with. To pass the time quicker and make the conversations less awkward. He would throw the ball to her and ask her a question, she would answer and throw it back with her own question. He said it was only fair that his kids (he never called them his cases, always his 'kids' and even though Ashley would probably never admit it to anyone she liked being one of Mr. Carlin's 'kids') got to ask him personal questions because his job was pretty much to talk to them about their lives.

"How's work?" Toss.

Catch.

"No, just… everything." Toss.

Catch.

"Pretty good," he smiled warmly, attempting (quite pathetically) to spin the ball on his finger, it fell off and rolled around on the floor and Ashley didn't allow herself to smile at his antics until he had bent down to retrieve it and couldn't see her. "I feel like we're all finally… getting settled."

He returned to his sitting position, ball in hand and grinned sheepishly before he threw it to her. "Any plans for this weekend?"

She shrugged, "Not really… maybe hanging out with a friend, or, like, picking up an extra shift."

"Ah, yes. Still trying to save up some money, Ashley?"

She kicked his desk lightly and wiggled the ball, "You weren't allowed to ask."

He smiled patiently, "Sorry."

She smirked, "It's okay. You're lucky I'm such a forgiving person."

"Oh, I know."

She bit her lip to keep from laughing a little. "Yeah. But, man… I don't know how other people keep it up, Mr. C. I've been at it for weeks and seriously, if anything, my cache has shrunken… what?" Toss.

Catch.

"Did you just pun?" Toss.

Catch.

"Yeah… don't tell anyone."

He mimed zipping his lips.

"What are you doing?" Toss.

Catch.

"This weekend… I don't know. I'm probably going to try and get the family together. It seems like ever since we got out here we've all been a little… distant with one another. Which, I understand. The kids need time to adjust to the new setting, they have to make new friends, get settled in school, all of that. And my wife has just been _swamped_ with work."

For a moment he looked kind of sad. She could see it in the way his mouth drooped down a little, and he seemed to slump slightly, kind of like that time she neglected the stupid plant-thing Kyla kept in the kitchen and it began to dry and wither. The lines on his face got just a bit deeper and his soft blue eyes that seemed so familiar glazed, just a little. And while Ashley liked to think of herself as indifferent to the feelings of most people there seemed something genuinely _wrong _about Arthur being sad. She didn't like it.

But then he blinked and began to bounce the ball from palm to palm until it jumped out at an odd angle and was rolling along the floor for the second time that session.

"Actually, my son has a basketball game later that I'm going to try to make it to. My daughter is cheerleading."

Something struck her about that statement.

Arthur Carlin had a son on the basketball team and a daughter who was a cheerleader.

He had blue eyes.

He was from Ohio.

_Holy shit._

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped a bit.

He noticed the sudden shift in her demeanor and tossed the ball back, gently. It bounced off Ashley's collar bone and rolled to the ground. "Ashley are you okay?"

She blinked hard, "Uh, yeah…"

Her mind was going so fast it was impossible for her mouth to catch up. Shaking her head she ducked down and retrieved the ball before it could roll under the desk. Her mouth was dry, "How… how many kids do you have, Mr. C?"

She tossed the ball back.

It was a little wild and he had to lean to the left a little but he managed to catch it. "Three."

Arthur paused.

Toss. "Would you like to see a picture?"

Catch.

She nodded silently.

With a proud smile he reached into his back pocket and withdrew a wallet.

_Christ. He keeps pictures of his family in his wallet. What fucking TV show did they lift this guy out of?_

Despite the situation her sarcastic inner-monologue proved once again that it Would Not Be Restrained.

With a quiet 'ah' he handed her the wallet (strange because Ashley thought it probably would have been safer for him to just remove the picture and hand it to her - she didn't know if she was quite worthy of the level of trust Arthur was so easily giving her).

She exhaled slowly and mustered up the courage to glance down at the picture.

Spencer Carlin's beautiful, smiling face gazed up at her through cheap, clear laminate.

* * *

"_What?"_

"You heard me, Spencer."

"Madison, you can't do this!"

"It's not like I _wanted_ to."

"Then _don't_-"

"You haven't left me any choice."

"Tha-"

"Look, Spencer, I'm giving _you_ the choice."

"My best friend or cheerleading? That's not a choice it's an ultimatum."

"Whatever you want to call it. I can't have a raging _lesbo_ on my squad."

"I'm not-"

"Then prove it."

"By hurting the only person who's genuinely tried to be my friend since I got here? I can't do that, Madison. I _won't _do that."

"Then, you _won't_ be on my squad."

"I can't believe you're doing this."

"Believe it. Don't worry, I'm sure your little girlfriend will make it up to you. Hope you like the taste of fish, Spencer."

"Grow up."

"Dyke!"

"You… I'll have the uniform in on Monday."

* * *

"Ugh, oh my god. Did you see the ugly-ass fucking clothes Leon is wearing? Seriously Hawaiian shirts are so late 90s."

"Fuck, Dougie," Ashley leaned back against the clear glass cage behind her; eyeing the small pile of chinchilla shit in the corner and inwardly cursing the small grey creatures. "You are _such_ a fucking queer, you know that?"

"Psh," he rolled his eyes and shoved her lightly in the shoulder, "bull shit look who's fuckin' talking."

"Hey, it's cute when I do it."

"Oh, right."

"I just don't get you fags, Y'know? It's, like, double the penis. Who wants all that?" she grinned wickedly.

"I'm not a fag. I'm bisexual."

"Yeah, you're bisexual and I fucked George Clooney."

He laughed a little, "I'm serious!"

She scoffed and walked around to the counter, grabbing the plastic bag and rake. "Get the bedding."

"Newspaper or cedar?"

"Newspaper. And there's no such thing as a fucking male bisexual!"

"Yeah, there is!"

"Nuh-uh. Bisexuality is something straight girls made up to get guys all hot and bothered. And coming home to find your boyfriend bent over in front of some burly guy named Lance? Not the typical hetero-female fantasy."

"Oh, like you'd know about the typical hetero-female fantasy. You're the biggest dyke I've ever met," he brought out the bedding and set it on the floor by the cage. "Can we do it with them in there or do we need the cage?"

She looked at the scurrying animals, "Better get the lil' tank thing. Or grab one of the 10 gallons and we'll wash it out later."

"Won't they jump out?"

"We've got lids."

"Okay."

He disappeared into the back room and returned with a plastic tank with a bright pink lid. The sides were slightly cloudy and he was holding it out from his body, "I didn't want to grab one of the tanks. I wanna try to leave early tonight, I'm meeting Amos at Mc Donald's. Ugh, we seriously need to wash these fucking things out sometime…"

"See? You just proved my point," she gathered a squirming mass of chinchilla in her hands and silently pleaded with it not to piss on her.

"That we need to clean these things?"

"No, that you're not bisexual."

"What? Amos and I-"

"Oh, come off it. You've been making fuck-me-eyes at each other for months. And don't forget that time I caught you in the storeroom with your tongue crammed down his throat."

"You could've seen worse things crammed down his throat."

"Oh, God," she turned so he couldn't see her grin. "I think I just threw up in my mouth a little."

He shrugged and cackled as they emptied the large tank of animals and placed the lid over the smaller one. He began fiddling with the locks for the slide-out bottom of the cage.

She crouched down and slid out the bottom, passing him a trash bag and begging to empty the floor of used bedding with a dustpan and the rake. "But, really, you're just proving my point. Amos, Andy, Tyrone? The last, like, three people you've dated have been guys."

"But, I'm not dating Amos. We're 'friends with benefits'. I don't _do_ relationships."

She rolled her eyes, grimacing as a patch of wet cedar brushed against her knuckles._ Oh, fucking gross. Chinchilla piss_. "You mean _he_ doesn't 'do relationships.' Jesus _fuck_, Dougie, if he like, breaks your heart and you end up crying all over Urkel's fine cotton seat covers like after that Ty bullshit I'll kick his fucking ass all up and down West Hollywood."

"I didn't fucking _cry_."

"There was sniffling. There were tears. There was hiccoughing. And you got snot all over the passenger seat. Blame it on the booze or whatever, but dude? You were _crying_."

He rolled his eyes, before flinching quickly, "Ew! Oh my fucking god, gross! Chinchilla piss!"

"Tell me about it…"

"Shit, this stuff reeks. Who buys these fucking things, anyway?"

"People starved for companionship? Maybe they'd make actual human-friends if they didn't have fucking chinchillas all over their fucking houses."

"No shit."

They finished and she began to tie up the bag. "But, seriously, you're not bisexual. When was the last time you were with a girl?"

He dumped in some shredded newspaper. "Dude, like, a week ago."

"No way," she stopped her trek to the backroom and turned to face him. "You're a goddamn liar."

"Dead serious."

"Okay, who was she?"

"Janice Ensling. The chick with the big…" he cupped the empty air in front of his chest.

"Blonde with the freaky eyes? On, like, the debate team or some shit?"

"Yup."

"Okay, fine," she walked into the storage room and through the backdoor into the alley with the dumpster where they tossed pretty much everything. There were at least eight dead mice in their now and a bunch of goldfish. She came in to see him zipping up the bag of food and the water already changed. "You just fucking proved the existence of the male bisexual, okay? You and Little Jimmy Urine."

"And Daryl Palumbo."

"David Bowie."

"Pfft, not fucking David Bowie."

"Uh, _yeah_. He totally said-"

"Yeah, but then he took it back. He's as fucking bisexual as Nelly Furtado."

She shuddered dramatically. "Well, Dave Navarro doesn't count, either."

"Hell no. Ass. It's losers like him that give us a bad rep," he lowered the last animal back into the cage and secured the lid. "You're washing this thing."

He kicked the dirty tank and it fell over, a few tiny balls of shit rolled out and onto the ground.

_Oh, god it looks like fucking cereal._ Since coming to work at the pet store Ashley hadn't been able to eat Coco Puffs.

"I'm not touching that thing with a ten foot pole."

"C'mon. I ain't doing it."

"Leave it for fucking Leon."

"Dude, if he finds it like that he'll give us shit about it. He might even tell Brenda." Bitchy Brenda was the owner of Petastic Paradise and even though she hardly ever showed up her visits were guaranteed to be painful and awkward. Ashley had one _hell_ of a time trying not to acknowledge her lisp. And she always sided with fucking Leon because _he_ was the fucking manager and could do no wrong.

She sighed, "Okay, fuck, whatever. But you're doing the stupid lizards."

He smirked, "You're still scared of them?"

"I am not! I am-," she cleared her throat, speaking again in a more reasonable tone. "I am not scared of the stupid, fucking, lizards, alright?"

"You sure know how to convince me, Ash."

"Have you looked into those beady, soulless, orange eyes, man? I have. They're freakin' demonic!"

He snorted.

"Oh, right, fucking laugh it up, Bunny. You still won't go near the goddamn cockatiels."

"Don't call me that. And those things are flippin' malicious!"

"Why can't I call you 'Bunny'? Makes about as much sense as 'Conejo'. More, even, because it's English."

"Okay, see, they call me Conejo because I'm from _fucking Conejo Valley._"

"Really? I always thought it was because of how you always piss yourself when you're scared."

"Okay, that was _one_ time in kindergarten, Ashley! _One fucking time_. Jesus, y'know, this is what I get for letting you come to my house. Shit, you're not allowed to talk to my mother anymore."

"Aw, crap, does that mean I have to cancel our date?"

"Fuck you, Ash."

"Only in your dreams, Bunny."

* * *

The house was dark and quiet and suddenly so painful in its abrupt emptiness that she was forced to realize all over again that only a few months ago she'd left everything she'd ever known on a different side of the country. The oppressive silence and unshakeable loneliness pressed down on her lungs like a lead blanket.

Truth was, she was still reeling from the unreality of being kicked off the cheerleading squad because she hadn't made the right friends.

If Spencer had been bolder (if Spencer had been _like Ashley_) she would have rolled with the punches. Defying Madison, showing her just how much she _didn't care_ about their petty squad. She would have showed up at the basket ball game in her normal clothing, marching triumphantly through the gym and up the bleachers to sit by her stunned family. Her mother would ask why she wasn't with the other girls and Spencer would shrug a bit and smile a little mysteriously and say that she decided it wasn't worth her time. And her mother would be so stunned she wouldn't comment, she'd just turn her attention back to the game and try to figure out where her timid, doormat of a daughter went.

And Spencer would catch Glen's eyes from the court and she would smile and he would look confused and maybe, just for the hell of it, she'd blow him a kiss. And she wouldn't even bother telling him the real truth about the squad. About what kind of a gigantic bitch his girlfriend was. Spencer wouldn't bother, because she wouldn't care. And she'd walk to the car with her parents that night after matching Madison's glare fearlessly and seeing a shadow of intimidation cast over the Latina's face.

Aiden would catch up to her before she left and he'd smile a little and ask her what was going on. She'd tell him that she quit the squad. And he'd look a bit sad before shrugging and saying that it was their loss. And then they'd smile at each other and he'd maybe try to hold her hand. And she would be able to pull it away, gently. Because she didn't want to hurt him, but she knew what she wanted and it _wasn't _him.

But Spencer wasn't like Ashley. Spencer_ couldn't _just 'roll with the punches.'

She exhaled roughly, dropping heavily onto the couch and placing her head in her hands. Her breathing was getting more and more unsteady and it was hard to breathe and her eyes were starting to burn and her head was starting to pound and she _couldn't turn her brain off._

She grabbed the nearest big fluffy pillow and buried her face in it. Her cheeks felt warm and her tears against the scratchy fabric of the pillow created one of _the _most unpleasant sensations she'd ever felt but none of that mattered when she was screaming all her anxieties into a soggy pillow in a house that she just wanted to be away from.

After a few minutes her sobbing began to slow. She sat up once more, feeling moist and gross and tired. Spencer moved to the kitchen, cleaning up in the sink and pressing the heel of her palms into her forehead. She hated crying. It _always _gave her a headache.

With a sigh she made her way to the upstairs bathroom where her mother kept most of the first-aid-type things.

It seemed like everything that could go wrong _did _go wrong because after retrieving the two copper colored pills she failed to find a cup and had to swallow them dry.

The walls of her bedroom were a dull shade of eggshell. It was one thing she liked about this house. Nothing made her feel more like an 8-year-old than the soft pink walls and random stuffed animals that served as decoration for her bedroom in Ohio. The eggshell at least made her feel a bit more grown up, even if sometimes at night she still missed the pink a little bit. It was kind of pretty.

She dropped to the bed with a ragged sigh, fumbling with the remote for her stereo until a quiet _plink _rang out and music began to filter through the speakers.

"_Hey, Jude  
Don't make it bad  
Take a sad song  
And make it better…"_

She smiled brightly and with little control. It was the mix Ashley had made for her. She'd handed it to her last week after declaring Spencer's taste in music 'unsuitable' for a friend of Ashley Davies. It was quite possibly the strangest mix anyone had ever given her (although, it was admittedly the first mix CD anyone had ever given her). But, it gave a bit of insight into the Ashley's head. And Ashley's head was just as random, and confusing, and beautiful and unpredictable as Spencer suspected.

Because after spending so many afternoons in the back of Ashley's van (and wow, that could be terribly misinterpreted) listening to her rambling thoughts and music the last thing she would have expected was the Beatles. But it was a pleasant surprise and Ashley seemed rather full of those.

She was surprised at how close she had become with the strange girl in the short time she had known her. Ashley was like none of the people she'd ever known. She was… brash, and reluctantly hopeful, with a quick wit and a quicker mouth. There was an air of danger around her; in every piercing, every muttered curse, in every look cast toward another girl that lasted a fraction too long (and Spencer would admit now, when she was alone and no one was around to hear her thoughts that those looks upset her for reasons that reached far, far beyond Catholic outrage).

But there was also a certain… sadness about Ashley. She rarely talked about herself. No, that wasn't true. _Ashley Davies _happened to Ashley's favorite topic (Spencer found the egomania oddly endearing). But, the important stuff, the personal stuff - that never got talked about. In fact, she had three reactions when Spencer's questions threatened to turn the conversation too serious: distraction - quick, and random, and often with a lame joke. There was general avoidance, when Ashley changed the topic quickly, or managed to duck the question through some trick of the tongue (and never in the ways that Spencer pretended she didn't dream about once or twice or a hundred times). Then, there were the brief but intense moments of sheer…

She wasn't sure.

Anger wasn't quite right. Neither was fear. Anxiety was a bit more fitting but far too dramatic. Whatever it was it made Ashley snap. Quick, biting words that ripped through the air leaving an awkward silence in their wake before Ashley would sigh and hang her head and apologize. And she was so easy to forgive; playing with the metal band around her thumb, tapping odd rhythms onto the floor, chewing her lip nervously, deep brown eyes darting up for brief moments of eye contact between mumbled 'I'm sorry's.

Ashley was a mystery.

She was wildly beautiful (painfully so even, Spencer's chest felt tighter and her stomach felt warm and she was always torn between smiling and wincing every time she looked at her). She was funny (unrestrained, over-dramatic reactions for the simplest occurrences, like the time Kyla had inadvertently snuck up behind her during passing period and Ashley had dropped to the ground, rolling out of the way before jumping quickly into a fighting stance and shouting out "Who wants some?" until both Spencer and Kyla had turned bright pink from laughter). She was smart (something few people seemed to be aware of - Ashley never did anything half way - her marks were either very good or very bad, and as Spencer understood she was at the top of her American Literature class). She was fearless (calling out Madison regularly, occasionally getting into verbal sparring matches with teachers in class, sometimes because she really believed in something, often just to be contrary- Ashley loved a good argument). She was_ cool _(because Ashley wore sunglasses, and ripped jeans that _weren't _ripped before she got them, because she honestly _didn't care _what most people thought about her, because she could talk about anything and at least _pretend_ she knew what she was saying, because she was _Ashley Davies _and, as she often liked to remind Spencer, she did cool like other people did breathing).

So why the _hell_ was she friends with Spencer?

It didn't make sense. Ashley should have had people breaking down her door to hang out with her. But, for some reason, all she had was Spencer. And Kyla. And, of course, the occasional odd person she nodded to or exchanged light conversation with, but they didn't count, not really because those were "school friends" and they remained at school. But Spencer didn't ask about that. She knew that it would be one of Ashley's "no" topics and didn't quite feel like setting the girl off if a confrontation could be avoided.

She shouldn't really worry about it, anyway. It felt like looking a gift horse in the mouth.

Spencer sighed and realized that the song had changed a while ago. A fast-paced, guitar-heavy tune with abrasive screaming and seemingly sporadic time changes. She recognized it from Ashley's van, but missed the calm familiarity of the Beatles and fumbled with the remote until "Hey Jude" was playing again.

It was a much better song to sulk to.

She rolled onto her side and half pulled a pillow over her head; wishing her father was there with a warm cup of tea and some inspiring words. Or Ashley with her wicked smile (the one that was strikingly adorable - it made her nose crinkle and her eyes shine and the world seem infinitely less scary) and another offer to feed Madison to the werewolves.

Her eyes were drawn to the notebook on her floor, half out of her backpack. She reached over the side of the bed to grab it and flipped it open. Several photos were shoved into the front pocket, in front of a math assignment she should really have been working on (but who cared about Trig at a time like this?). She glanced down at one picture to see Kyla in a headlock posing with Ashley in front of some graffiti-stained wall at one of the dive burger joints Ashley loved. The next had Ashley, Kyla, and Spencer all squeezed into the frame; each making some sort of hideous face. Ashley's tongue stretched all the way up to touch the tip of her nose, cross-eyed. Kyla eyes rolled back to the whites, mouth twisted into an odd shape. And Spencer (admittedly the least impressive) one eye half closed, chin jutted out, looking (as Ashley put it) like a really hot pirate that had been kicked in the balls.

The next picture was just Ashley. It was candid. At the beach, in an oversized The Cure hoodie. Her curls were damp and pressed down to her cheeks, tips of her fingers peaking out from her sleeves and pressing into her bottom lip, the other hand clutching at the ground. Her feet were buried in the sand, particles clinging to the cuffs of her jeans. The dark makeup around her eyes was a little bit smudged, and her expression couldn't have been more distance, but with the pier and endless miles of beach stretching on in the background it was possibly the most beautiful thing Spencer had ever seen.

Her phone buzzed abruptly on her nightstand. It startled her and the photo slipped out of her hand, in her haste to catch it she bent one of the corners slightly and frowned deeply as she smoothed it over. She slipped the pictures back into her binder and grabbed the phone.

It was a text from Aiden.

**Where r u?**

She frowned deeply, sucking on the inside of her cheek. She just…

With a sigh she texted back, quickly, deliberately, professionally:

**Busy.**

Flipping the phone shut she flopped back onto the bed. She blinked, sitting up once more and flipping the phone open again. Scrolling through her contacts until she came across the only person she wanted to talk to.

It rang once. Twice, Three times before-

"Yo."

"Hey, Ash."

"Spencerrrr… save me!"

Smiling seemed to be a reaction her body had, automatically, to Ashley's voice, "From what?"

"The sad, sad world of the minimum wage petshop employee."

Spencer giggled a little.

"Don't laugh! I'm serious. This blows. I mean, I probably made, like, twelve pesos today and I got bit by a mean-ass hamster. Stupid fucker totally made me bleed on my stupid little apron thing. Ugh! Oh, and a freaking mouse peed on me today, it was lame."

"Aw, you poor baby. How will you make it through the night?"

"Valium, Band-aids, and indie rock?" there was a pause on the line to allow Spencer to chuckle and when Ashley spoke again her tone was much softer. "What's up? Aren't you supposed to be at the game? I don't hear homoerotic jock-noises…"

Spencer swallowed, but getting kicked off the squad didn't seem like quite that big a deal anymore. "It's uh… it's nothing. I'll tell you about it later."

"Spencer…"

"Really, Ash, it's okay."

She heard Ashley sigh, "Alright, alright, fine. But, uh… are you," she cleared her throat a little and Spencer could hear a door shutting and the distant sounds of bird-noises ceased, "are you okay?"

Spencer smiled.

She didn't need the squad. She didn't need to make anyone else feel accomplished. And while her mother's approval would have been nice, she didn't _need _it.

She had everything she needed.

"Yeah, Ash, I'm fine now."

* * *

"-fine now."

Ashley bit down softly on her lip, exhaling. She still had her doubts, but it's not like she could force Spencer into talking if she wasn't ready. And besides, the alley full of dead would-be pets wasn't exactly the best place to have a heart-to-heart.

"Okay," she grinned a little, leaning back against the door, "but… if you change your mind…"

She waited until she was sure Spencer was grinning, because dramatic pauses tended to elicit that reaction from the girl.

"I'm always ready to choke a bitch in the name of friendship."

And every time Spencer laughed Ashley felt like she'd done something right for once.

-----------------------------------------  
TBC  
-----------------------------------------

* * *

**End Notes:** Review, I guess.

_-Orange_


	7. Life As Is

_Disclaimer: _**see previous chapters**

**Title:** this chapter is "Life As Is" like the song by Open Hand

**People:**_ **uname** and **Dr. Sex Walrus** were the best betas ever_

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the delay. Double posting tonight, as penance.

* * *

--------------------------------------  
CHAPTER 6: Life As Is  
-------------------------------------- 

"What'll it be?"

"Hmmm," Arthur pretended to think the decision over. He slid his gaze to Spencer and watched her bouncing on her heels impatiently. She met his gaze and he winked at her.

"Make that… one pistachio cone," Spencer grimaced, "aaaand…." he grinned wickedly, "a coffee cone."

Spencer gasped and smacked him on the shoulder, "_Daaaad_!"

The whining lilt of her voice was so positively_ Spencer _that he couldn't help laugh. He pulled that trick every time they went to an ice cream shop. Ever since a petulant 8-year-old Spencer had _demanded_ a coffee flavored ice cream because she was _grown up _enough to eat one. He could still remember the disgusted look on her face, and the pout she wore on the drive home after Paula had refused to buy her a different flavor because she needed to learn a lesson.

"Alright, alright kiddo," he chuckled some more, and wrapped her in a one-armed hug, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. With an apologetic smile he turned back to the bored-looking Häagen-Dazs employee, "Sorry. Make that last one a strawberry sundae."

The boy rang them up, made their desserts and shooed them out of line. Arthur contemplated leading them outside, but the near-black clouds didn't exactly paint a nice ice-cream-eating-backdrop so he sat down at a booth by the window and watched with a soft smile as Spencer eagerly dug into her sundae.

Everything felt so… _simple_.

He missed this.

The move hadn't been easy on him. Paula saw it as a great opportunity, and he knew that taking a new job would be a huge deal for her. It presented all sorts of opportunities and he wouldn't have been much of a husband if he sought to hold her back, solely for his comfort. Besides, there were a plethora of life-experiences that his children would only be exposed to in a large city like L.A. and while he realized not all of them would be pleasant, they would still be important factors in shaping the kind of people they would become. Besides, he'd always wanted to branch out into more… _urban_ social work.

Paula had changed.

She'd become quite distant. Late nights and early mornings and the last time they'd made love had been shortly after the move. And while the sex had never been one of the key points in their marriage it _had_ been important, and Arthur missed it. But, the job was stressful. The work was hard and long, and the fallout from the move was affecting _everyone_ still. He would give her time. He would give her space, but make himself available. He would be the kind of husband she needed.

Clay had changed.

He spent lots of time with his new friends. Arthur liked Sean, he was a strong-willed, opinionated, outspoken boy with a good head on his shoulders and lots of potential. His influence on Clay was apparent. It bothered Paula a little, the subtle changes taking place in their son. He was becoming more contemplative, more outspoken, and admittedly, a bit more jaded. But, it was all a very important part of becoming who he was. Arthur would support him, just like always.

Spencer had changed.

She was… quieter. She'd admitted to having a rough time adjusting to the move. Finding friends in particular seemed to be a difficult area. Spencer was quite friendly, but perhaps a little shy. He didn't think it would be particularly hard for her to find a group and the cheerleading squad had seemed promising for a short time, but apparently they'd had a falling out which lead to Spencer quitting. She'd refused to give many details, and he hadn't pushed, but Madison's name came up once or twice and it was enough to make him worry about Glen, a little.

Glen…

Hadn't really changed at all.

He was still the same competitive, cocky, sports-minded, lady killer he'd always been and Arthur was thankful for the constancy.

_Arthur _had changed.

_He_ had changed, and he hadn't really anticipated just how much the transition would affect him. All of the kids he worked with, all of the stories he'd heard and the files he'd read and the children he'd met…

Ricky was… a very depressed boy, and Arthur found himself constantly worrying about his wellbeing, somewhere in the back of his mind. The decision to place him on anti-depressants was a hard one to make, but really Arthur couldn't think of any other short-term solution. And he needed to do _something_ in the mean time or the boy would fall back into self-harm and that was the last thing Arthur wanted.

Sometimes the job made him feel so helpless it was hard to continue with his normal life.

At least there was _some_ hope.

Ashley had been doing quite well in their recent sessions. After the initial meeting she'd gradually opened up, and could now talk candidly about most subjects. Some were still rough topics and he was cautious in broaching them, but knew they couldn't be put off forever. But, perhaps allowing her to get comfortable would be the best strategy. The more she trusted him the more willing she would be to talk. And she'd been doing remarkably well on the drug tests. Her parole officer affirmed that she was showing vast improvement in every area. The girl had a rough life, but she was… tenacious. It was a quality he admired. Arthur didn't believe in favorites, but if he _did_ he would pick her. Kids like her made the job really worth while.

But, Renee Luther hadn't been fairing so well since she'd been pulled over for-

"Dad?"

Arthur winced guiltily and shook his head to clear it of thoughts. "Yes, honey?"

She eyed him warily, "You okay?"

He smiled at her concern. "Yeah. Just… thinking. There's been a lot of stuff going on lately."

"I _know_," she really had Paula's smile. And the way they both tilted their heads when they spoke… "Clay's always doing school stuff, or Chelsea-stuff, o-or he's with Sean. And then Glen is all about the basketball, well, I guess that isn't that much of a change from Ohio," he noticed that she had stopped referring to Ohio as "Home" - he took it as a good sign, "well, he's all about basketball when he's not engaged in a testosterone-fest with Aiden-"

Arthur snorted into his cone. The action hadn't been intentional and left him with green ice cream on his nose but Spencer found it_ highly _amusing and burst into a quiet fit of giggles. He mock-glared before dipping his finger into her ice cream and smearing strawberry topping on her cheek. She shrieked and scooted backwards until her back was pressed hard against the vinyl seat and began scrubbing her face with a napkin. Their laughter appeared to annoy the boy working the counter and once Arthur registered several glares in their direction he managed to regain his composure.

"So," he held up both palms in a symbolic call for a truce, "how _is _Aiden, anyway?"

Spencer's brows furrowed, "Why do you ask?"

He wondered if this particular conversation had been poorly planned. "Nothing, really. It's just… your mother mentioned that you two were-"

"We're _not_ dating."

Yes. It had been _very _poorly planned.

"Okay, okay. She didn't say that, by the way. Just mentioned that you two were rather… close."

Spencer sighed, "I just wish she'd _stop _trying to set me up."

"I don't think she's trying to-"

"Dad," she lowered her voice and dropped her gaze to her sundae, "sometimes it feels like…"

Arthur stayed silent, watching his daughter appear to struggle with something. He reached a hand across the table and placed it over hers. The gesture brought the comfort he had intended and Spencer looked up, smiling shyly, sadly, before continuing.

"Sometimes it feels like… like people want me to be something. Like… mom wants me to be like her. She wants me to be on the cheerleading squad and-and homecoming queen, and…"

She sighed and brushed her knuckles against the corners of her eyes.

"She wants me to be… like her, and I don't… I don't think I can do that for her and-"

"Spencer," Arthur's voice was warm but firm, "Spencer stop. Deep breaths, sweetie."

She nodded and squeezed his hand, exhaling shakily. After a few moments she appeared to have calmed down and went back to picking at her sundae. Arthur gingerly began to eat his own rapidly melting cone and spoke slowly, "You're… you're afraid of disappointing her, is that it?"

Spencer failed to react and for a moment he though she hadn't heard him. Just before he repeated himself he heard her mumble a response around her spoon, "Yeah."

"Spencer… honey, we are so proud of you. All of you. Personally, I think the greatest thing I've done in this life is helped to bring you and your brothers into this world. I can't even _begin_ to imagine my life without any _one _of you. Everything I do is with you three in mind. I go into work every day, not just because I want to help people, but because I want to be able to provide for you. To get you all the things you deserve. The things you'd like to have. And nothing makes me happier than to spend time with you. To hear you laugh, or see you smile. I'm _so_, so _very_ proud of you, Spencer."

"But… what's there to be_ proud _of? I-I'm not basketball start, like… like Glen, or-or a genius like Clay or-"

"Spencer, you are a _wonderful_ girl. You don't need to be all those things to make me happy. Or your mother happy. There's _so_ much about you that makes you special. The _only_ thing you_ ever _need to be is the amazing person you are-"

"But what if I don't know _who_ I am?" her voice was so soft and her eyes were so dark all he wanted was to make her smile again.

"Then… then I'd say you're exactly where you need to be."

"But I don't know where I _am_-"

"And if you'd said anything different _then_ I'd be worried. Spencer…you're 16. You're _just_ starting out your life. This is the time you have to take to figure out _who_ you are. Of course you don't know just yet. If you did, I'd say you'd done nothing more than place limits on who you could be. That's the beautiful thing about being a teenager, Spence. It's also a scary part, I know. But… I'm not worried. Not at all. Because I know… I know that no matter who you end up to be, I'll love you. I know that you'll be wonderful, and sweet, and amazing, and smart, and beautiful as you are now. Because those are such _big_ parts of you, Spencer and _no one _can ever take them away."

She smiled a bit, but looked away. "Is it okay, to… still be kinda scared?"

"Of course," he released her hand and focused his attention back on his ice cream. "Just know… that you have a _great_ family. That loves you very much, and just wants you to be happy, and will _always_ be there for you."

She smiled. So bright, and wide and grateful, "Thanks, Dad."

"It was completely and_ absolutely_ my pleasure. I'm really glad you can talk to me like this, Spencer."

"Me too."

In the brief silence that followed he managed to finish his cone. She still had some ice cream left, and he wanted to prolong the outing so he leaned back against the seat and exhaled softly. "How's school, kiddo?"

She smiled, "It's not so bad. I've been making a few friends, I guess."

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh. Um… y'know, a few people from classes. Um, Aiden, and, uh, Kyla-"

"Kyla?"

"Oh, yeah. She's really nice. Ashley's sister."

Arthur had yet to meet the girl who was apparently his daughter's best friend. He felt slightly guilty about it (in Ohio he'd known all of her friends) but apparently she was always working and he himself found it hard to get a lot of downtime. Spencer assured him the girl was "a bit wild" but ultimately "great, and funny, and really nice once you get to know her." He'd never had reason to doubt Spencer's choice in friends before, and he trusted her judgment.

"That's nice that you're close with her family."

"Just her sister, I haven't met her parents. But, uh, I'm going over to their house later."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah… I mean, if that's okay."

He grinned, "Of course it is, Spencer."

"Thanks Dad."

"No problem, hon. So, I haven't heard all that much about her - fill me in."

"Oh, um… she's a musician."

"Really?"

"Yeah, guitar and she sings - or Kyla says she does. I asked her, but she won't let me hear."

"Sounds kinda shy."

"Shy?" Spencer grinned and scoffed, "That's the _last _word I would use to describe Ashley Davies."

Davies?

Arthur paused thoughtfully.

Well… at least he had, in fact, met her friends.

He sighed.

Things didn't feel quite as simple as they had earlier.

* * *

"Spencer, do we _have_ to do this today?" Ashley's voice was half-annoyed, half-pleading.

Spencer sighed, "_Yes_, Ash. I wanna know where you live. I want to know more about you. It feels like you're always keeping me at arms-length and-"

"Why,_ Spencer_," for some reason she doubted she would ever understand, Ashley began speaking with a southern accent. A really bad southern accent, "if ya wanted to get… _closer_ to me, you could have just asked."

Spencer opened her mouth to reply with something indignant but apparently Ashley wasn't quite finished.

"What kind of close are we talking? Just… groping-close? Naked-close? I mean, I could do kinky-close, too, if you're into that. You know, they always say it's the quiet ones that like it sorta freaky-"

"Ashley!" Spencer's voice was unintentionally shrill and her face was bright, bright pink. Her eyes wide, stomach furiously warm and between her legs there was… pressure. She squeezed her thighs together and looked around the room furiously, afraid that somehow someone had overheard but she was alone and it filled her with all kinds of relief. She exhaled shakily and pressed a hand to her forehead wishing that her heart would stop beating so quickly and so loudly.

"Sorry!" Ashley's laughter suggested the exact opposite. "I just… need to know these things in advance. I like to be prepared-"

"God," Spencer found herself chuckling reluctantly, a tad high pitched (really, the situation wasn't all that funny, especially when her head was swimming like it was - but Ashley's laughter was raspy and beautiful and utterly contagious). "Can you ever take anything seriously?"

"Aw, now where's the fun in that?"

Spencer shook her head still grinning, "I'll be over in, like, fifteen minutes."

"Spencer…"

"Why is this such a big deal for you?"

"Because…" Spencer heard some rustling in the background before she recognized the opening chords of Hole's "Malibu" begin in the background. She wasn't an especially large Courtney Love fan, but Ashley had been listening to the song quite often and tended to spout of random trivia in the course of their "music appreciation" as Kyla called it. Ashley normally just called it "kicking Spencer's taste in music in the ass until it improved." Spencer called it "humoring Ashley." She heard the other girl sigh, "Look… I don't live like you, okay? I mean, we're not like… hobos or something. 'Cause that would be creepy, but, anyway… It's just…"

"Are you like… embarrassed or something?" Spencer wasn't quite sure how to react. She could have expected just about anything from Ashley but… embarrassment? She felt in over her head.

This was one of those random 'surprises' that Ashley seemed to throw at her every time she was beginning to think she had the girl figured out.

"No! I'm not… not _embarrassed_. I just… I _like_ how we are, Spence. I don't want that to… like, change or whatever."

"Do I come off as that shallow, Ash? You think that just because you live a little differently I'd want to-"

"No, it's just… People either hate me or they pity me. Or they want to fuck me. Actually, some of my ex-girlfriends have managed to pull off all three at the same time, but that's beside the point…"

"Ash-"

"Look, you're," she sounded uncomfortable. "Wait, how do you even know where I live?"

Spencer rolled her eyes, "Kyla gave me your address. When she _invited me over_. And don't think you can change the subject."

"Look, just forget what I was saying, okay? I don't even know where I was going with it."

"Ashley…"

"Look, seriously, it's cool. I was just being stupid. I'll see you in fifteen, alright? Bring some DVDs unless you _really _trust me and Kyla. And_ I _may be the poster-child for integrity, but Kyla has an unhealthy obsession with Brat Pack movies, so unless you're prepared to choke on insane amounts of Molly Ringwald and Emilio Estevez I suggest you bring something that _doesn't_ suck."

Ashley hung up before Spencer could say anything else.

* * *

"Hey, Ash - we're out of soda."

Ashley rolled her eyes, "So?"

"'So' do something about it."

"Yes, Kyla," Ashley joined her sister in the kitchen. "Because I am the soda-fairy. And I bring forth joy and carbonated beverages for all the good children that wish for some."

Kyla regarded her sister carefully, "Y'wanna know what I think?"

"No."

"I think you're sexually frustrated."

It was sheer bad luck that the moment Kyla spoke those words Ashley was stuffing a handful of Cheeze-Its into her mouth. She choked on the brightly colored snacks, several unchewed squares flying past her lips, through her fingers and scattering on the floor.

"Ew, gross, you got ABC Cheeze-It on me."

"What the _Hell_?"

"Oh, the sexually frustrated thing? Yeah, well, I mean, ever since you and Spencer-"

"There _is _no Me-and-Spencer!"

Kyla rolled her eyes before giving her sister a Don't-bullshit-me look, "Right. And, I wasn't even going to say something about a You-and-Spencer."

Ashley was bright pink and her eyes were darting around wildly, "I-"

"Ash?"

"What?"

"Shut up. Anyway what I was _going_ to say, was that you haven't spent the night out since-"

"Not true. Like, two weeks ago I-"

"You crashed at Dougie's because you were too hammered to drive home. You _barely_ go to Gray anymore. Actually, that part kind of freaked Kat out - she called last week 'cause she wanted to make sure you were okay. You haven't brought a girl home in _forever_ - which is actually really a good thing. Because that one time we were still sharing a room and you woke me up in the middle of the night to kick me out so you could…. Anyway, and that one chick that stole, like, all our food and dad was_ so_ pissed-"

"Kyla-"

"Okay, look, whatever. I don't know if it's because of… what happened, or Spencer but you're… different, lately, Ash."

"Good different?"

"Good different."

Ashley sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

"So," Kyla began and when Ashley looked up to meet her gaze she was wearing the wicked Davies smile that Ashley and her father were notorious for, "I was wondering if the good-different-you wouldn't mind running up to the 7-11 and picking up some drinks? It's your duty as soda fairy."

Ashley tossed the box of Cheeze-Its at her. Kyla squealed and managed to dart out of the way, the box bounced off the counter and scattered dark orange squares everywhere. "Uh, hell to the nizzo. Spence is gonna be here in, like, five minutes."

"But Aaaash-"

"God, you are so annoying. Look, I'll call Dad and have him bring some home for work," Raife worked at the RC/7-Up bottling plant on 26th. It was late hours, low pay, and little respect. But, he frequently brought home cases upon cases of Royal Crown cola and he earned enough to cover most of the bills for the house (or it would have, if Raife wasn't in the habit of drinking half his paycheck). The Davies home itself was paid off, having belonged to his father prior to the man's death at 65 from lung cancer. Raife didn't have much to offer his daughters beyond 7-Up, lax restrictions, booze, and the fact that, for the most part, he meant well.

"But what are we going to do until then?"

Ashley exhaled impatiently, "We've got beer and water."

"Ash!"

"Seriously, dad doesn't care if we drink his Buds, as long as we don't touch the hard stuff-"

"But I don't _want_-"

"Picky, picky, picky… okay, well we've got that Emergency Kool-Aid."

Kyla's pout made her look like a 12-year-old, "What flavor?"

Ashley shrugged, "I dunno. Cherry?"

"Ew. Cherry is _so_ gross."

"Better than that nasty grape shit you-"

"Grape is awesome!"

"Uh, _no _it's not."

"Yeah it is!"

"No."

"Yeah."

"Is not."

"Is too."

"Is not."

"Is too."

"Is not."

"Is too."

"Is too."

"Ha! You agree!"

"Dammit, that wasn't supposed to happen. You were supposed to-"

"Uh… do I _look_ like Daffy Duck?"

"… do you really want me to answer that?"

"You're a bitch, Ash."

"You love it."

--------------------------------------  
TBC  
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* * *

**End Notes:** See next chapter.

_-Orange_


	8. The Tension and the Terror

_Disclaimer: _**See previous chapters.**

**Title:** "The Tension and the Terror" - Straylight Run song.

**People: **_My betas, all reviewers, and **isawsparks** who literally just cleaned fuckin' house as far as nominations go on the spashley DOT com boards. Yay sparky!_

**Author's Note:** Okay. I was bad, and didn't update last weekend like I should have. So, now here's two.

* * *

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CHAPTER 7: The Tension and the Terror  
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"Thanks, Clay."

Glen had flaked out on her last minute. Something about a forgetting he had a date with Madison. It wasn't so bad, though, because Spencer was almost certain that he would have spent the entire car ride bitching about Ashley.

"No problem, Spence," She didn't like choosing favorites, but if she _did_ she thought she'd probably pick Clay. "What time do you need to be picked up?"

She sucked on her lip, thinking "Y'know… I think Ash wouldn't mind giving me a ride back."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, but, hey, if plans change call me."

"Sure. Thanks again, Clay!"

"Welcome."

And he was pulling out and down the street and she was left standing awkwardly in front of a dumpy single story house in a run down neighborhood. The yard was small - alternating patches of dirt and a dark green weed/grass combination. A shoulder-high chainlink fence wound its way around the perimeter of the yard, the gate had no discernable lock. The stucco on the exterior of the house was a strange, faded mint-green like color, some of it was chipped off in places. On either side of Ashley's house were similar homes, in slightly worse condition. Ashley's driveway was empty except for the familiar, hulking presence of Urkel.

Spencer walked up the driveway, stepping over an oil stain and entered the yard after a brief, noisy struggle with the fence. After swinging aside the sagging screen door she rapped her fist against the door twice, three times. There was commotion, a brief crash and the rattling of locks before the door opened and the once dull sound of music that seeped through the walls became _much_ louder.

_"Beat on the brat  
Beat on the brat…"_

Ashley had opened the door; loose white tank that hung off her in_ all _the right places (and made Spencer blush and think of all the_ wrong _things), acid washed jeans with random stitching, patches, and grass stains. Her hair was askew, a bright red smear across her cheekbone. She had shoved one arm out the door, above Spencer's head (and Spencer had nearly jumped off the stoop for fear of being smacked in the head by a flailing limb) - clutched tightly in her hand was some sort of remote.

"Ashley!"

Kyla was directly behind Ashley. Pressed up against her and struggling valiantly to wrench the remote from Ashley's deathgrip. It might have worked if Ashley hadn't been the taller of the sisters.

"Turn it off!"

"Never!"

And Ashley broke past Spencer, casting only a brief sympathetic glance over she shoulder as apology. She leaped off the stoop, landing in the dirt and sliding, kicking up patches of grass and weeds in the process. Kyla was right behind her, lunging towards her sister. In Ashley's haste to dodge the attack she twisted further in the slick dirt and was sent sprawling. Kyla seized the opportunity and flung herself atop her sister. Shrieking ensued. Spencer couldn't quite understand anything being said (perhaps they were simply noises rather than words). And suddenly amid the writhing mass of Davies there was a shrill 'oof!' and a cry of triumph.

Kyla fell back on her elbows as Ashley jumped away, springing across the lawn in several large strides. Kyla rose to her feet the moment Ashley ducked behind Spencer, the hand with the remote behind her back - free hand gripping the material of the blonde's shirt desperately.

"Spencer's safe!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yeah!"

"There is no safe! That's cheating!"

"It's _you_ losing, -like always- and _me_ winning. Because _I'm_ the fucking shit."

"This is stupid. I'll just turn it off myself."

"No!"

Ashley grabbed Spencer by the arm and hauled her into the house, slamming the door shut almost on the other girl's leg, "Sorry, Spence."

The Ohioan was too stricken to speak.

"What just-"

"Ashley!" the fervent pounding on the door indicated that Kyla wasn't as amused as Ashley apparently was.

"Shh!" Ashley pressed her hand to Spencer's mouth to silence her, before an odd expression came over her face as if realizing that their noise level had absolutely _nothing_ to do with _anything_.

"What's going on?" Spencer tried again.

"Ashley Grace Davies!"

"Shut up Kyla!" Ashley shrieked at the door, before turning around and pressing her back up against it. "Kyla just-"

"Your middle name's 'Grace'?"

Ashley glowered, "Shoulda left you out there with her."

"I'm serious, Ash! Let me in, dammit!"

The song changed. Ashley visibly drooped and Spencer heard Kyla's 'ha!' of victory from outside. With a shrug and strained smile in Spencer's direction Ashley pulled away from the door, unlocked it with one hand and tossed the remote onto the couch.

Kyla burst in, smacking Ashley in the back of the head, "You bitch!"

And the squabbling began. As entertaining as seeing Ashley and Kyla go at it was, those types of arguments were pretty much the same every time. Spencer's eyes wandered around the room. A semi-old television set, ugly deep orange recliner (the arms were sort of torn up, though - yellow foam peaking through randomly), ratty flower-print loveseat and un-matching green pleather couch that looked as if it had definitely seen better days. A scuffed coffee table littered with _Guitar Center_ catalogues, a three-month-old copy of _Seventeen_ magazine, a few random punk-rock zines, a worn Jack Kerouac novel.

The lamp in the corner was shaped like a hula dancer and the stereo (the nicest looking thing in the room) sat atop a small black table, speakers on either side.

Spencer could see the hall, but not much further and part of the kitchen. There was a trail of bright red liquid and powder from the kitchen to the doorway. Spencer realized she recognized it from the smear on Ashley's face and had seen it on Kyla's hands and forearms.

There was a loud thump and Spencer turned to see that Ashley had hopped onto the coffee table, presumably, to escape Kyla's vengeance-slaps.

Kyla's hands flew to her face, "You got mud all over my _Seventeen_!"

Ashley looked down and groaned, jumping off the table and dropping to her knees beside it, furiously wiping mud off the reading materials, "I got mud all over_ On The Road_!"

"_Seventeen,_ Ash!"

"Real_ books_, Kyla!"

The bickering dissolved into a glaring-match and Spencer wondered what she'd gotten herself into.

* * *

"So… what was the fight about?"

It was about an hour after Spencer had arrived. After the impromptu but not completely out-of-the-ordinary mud fight (sadly, it was the first they'd had in almost two months - Kyla had thought they were really making progress) her sister had taken a five minute shower while Ashley had simply changed into sweatpants and an old Motörhead shirt that belonged to her father (Ashley had decorated each wall of her room with a Motörhead poster - as far as she was concerned Lemmy was a surefire way to keep nightmares at bay. The mole was damn impressive). It smelled like laundry and pot.

Ashley grinned and the newly-washed Kyla scowled.

"Ashley was playing that _stupid_ song again."

Spencer looked amused and raised an eyebrow. "Song?"

Ashley gestured for Spencer to get closer. The blonde obliged but that didn't stop Ashley from leaning in even closer so that when she spoke her lips brushed against Spencer's ear.

The girl smelled like strawberry shampoo. Ashley closed her eyes, glad that her face wasn't visible from either angle and allowed herself to smile for reasons unrelated to tormenting Kyla. She spoke in a stage whisper and tried not to think about the way Spencer shivered when Ashley spoke. "Sometimes… when she annoys me - which is pretty much always- I play "Beat on the Brat" when she walks into a room."

She pulled back a little and cast a seedy glance at Kyla, "Drives her _crazy_."

Kyla threw a pillow at Ashley. "Oh, _Ha ha_."

The pillow glanced off Spencer's shoulder, a product of Kyla's terrible, terrible aim. Ashley responded without thinking, hurling the pillow back at Kyla with twice the force. Her sister shrieked and ducked out of the way while Ashley threw an arm around Spencer's neck with a grin.

* * *

_"I'll do anything sexual. I don't need a million dollars for it, either."_

"Hot."

"Shh!"

_"You're lying."_

"Man, I hope not."

"Ash!"

_"I already have. I've done just about everything there is except a few things that are illegal. I'm a nymphomaniac."_

Ashley opened her mouth to speak but Kyla had anticipated this and slammed a pillow into Ashley's face before she could speak.

Spencer grinned from her spot to the left of the Davies sisters.

_"Lie."_

Ashley attempted to speak but Kyla still pressed the pillow over her face. Defiant but muffled speech was apparent as Ashley struggled to free herself.

_"Are your parents aware of this?"_

"The only person I told was my shrink."

Ashley burst up from underneath Kyla, panting; face pink from exertion.

_"And what'd he do when you told him?"_

Spencer looked back and met Kyla's reluctantly amused gaze.

_"He nailed me."_

"Allison and Claire should hook up!"

_"Very nice."_

Spencer chuckled and wrapped an arm around Ashley who had buried her face in Spencer's side after Kyla had tossed the pillow at her again.

She felt the warmth of Ashley, the soft press of the girl's nose into the side of her stomach. Sliding her hand unconsciously from the brunette's hip, over her ribs, and to her hair so she could thread her fingers through long, curly strands (and pretend she didn't notice the way Ashley's breathing had become a little deeper, and she pressed a little closer than necessary, and the way the hand she'd slung casually over Spencer's thigh squeezed a little).

Kyla was easily swept up in the movie once more, despite the fact that Ashley had claimed they'd seen it "at least a bazillion times." Spencer glanced over and noticed the girl mouthing the words.

_"It's kind of a double-edged sword, isn't it?"_

"A what?"

Ashley pulled herself up from Spencer's lap and gestured for the girl to come closer.

_"Well, if you say you haven't...you're a prude. If you say you have...you're a slut! It's a trap. You want to but you can't but when you do you wish you didn't, right?"_

"Ally Sheedy rocks, but she was _way_ better in _High Art_."

Spencer blinked, "High-What?"

Ashley's eyes sparkled in the way that was wildly innocent yet utterly sinister at the same time. The description sounded odd, even in her own head but if there was anything Spencer had come to learn about the other girl it was that Ashley was all sorts of amazing contradictions.

The Californian grinned. "I am _so_ picking the movies next time we do this."

Between Ashley's grin and the wicked look in her eyes Spencer wasn't sure if that was such a good idea.

* * *

"Wow, it's really coming down out there, huh?"

Spencer's voice was quiet but she was sitting close enough for Ashley to hear it. The brunette closed her eyes and tilted her head back, filtering out the noises from the television and focusing on the heavy sounds of the rain. Ashley loved rain. Especially storms. It felt like the earth was getting clean, washing away all the dirt and lies and trivial things. A world-wide time out. Rain was constant, and dependable; it was always wet, it always sounded wonderful, it always meant squirmy legions of worms to dry on the sidewalks, and there was _always_ a rainbow afterwards. As much as Ashley would never admit it, she was someone who could appreciate constancy - and if there was one thing in the world she _knew _she could count on, it was the rain.

Her arm was wrapped around Spencer's shoulders. Ashley pulled the girl tighter against her, turned so she could whisper intimately into her ear and pretended that they could do this sort of thing all the time. "Yeah."

A shiver. "I don't really like the rain…"

"Really?"

"I guess," she shifted closer to Ashley and tugged on the blanket they were sharing. "When I was a kid thunder always scared me. I thought for the longest time it was God breaking things."

Ashley couldn't stop her small smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

There was a sort of silence. Sort of, because Spencer's soft breathing and the rapid thumping of Ashley's heart were apparent. Kyla was eating mini pretzels, kicking her legs back and forth in the air as she laid on her stomach, head propped against an open palm and watched with rapt attention as Jodie Foster and Anthony Hopkins engaged in a mental showdown on their TV screen.

"You know…" Ashley made sure her voice was low and husky an all the sorts of things that made girls come home with her, "when you see a rainbow…."

Spencer tilted her head just slightly.

"It's God having gay sex."

Spencer laughed so hard she actually snorted, which sent Ashley into her own fit of giggles. Kyla attempted to shut them up with creepy-librarian-noises but gave up when Spencer snorted again and their laughter was redoubled.

Eventually they calmed down and opted to remain silent to pay attention as Buffalo Bill screamed about lotion.

"Jodie Foster's_ hot_."

Kyla rolled her eyes, "You say that, like, every five minutes."

"'Cause it's fuckin' true. Jodie Foster is-"

"Hot, yeah, we get it."

Ashley grinned. Kyla was _way _too easy. Spencer caught Ashley's smile and gave her a disapproving head shake. Ashley shrugged and opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by the shrill ringing of the phone.

"Not it!"

Kyla had reflexes like a fucking cat.

Ashley rolled her eyes, shot Spencer an apologetic smile and pushed herself up off the couch. It wasn't _her_ fault that the action caused her to press up against Spencer. She barely even noticed the way the other girl's breath caught, how warm she was. She padded over to the phone in the kitchen and answered with her best bored tone. "Davies Mortuary; you call, we hall."

There was lots of loud noise in the background. Whooping, television, clinking glasses, and a distinctively female voice purring something that was probably disgusting.

"Dad, you off work already?"

"Yeah, baby doll, Chet let me off early."

She frowned, hearing the alcohol in his voice. "So, what's up?"

"Ah, well…" there was the voice again, and then her father's and in the background some 12-step-failures were belting out the chorus to a Journey song, "see, I'm here with my friend Candace."

Raife had never mentioned a Candace. And, he wasn't the first to use the term "friend" when he really meant skank-I-just-picked-up-that-I-can-score-with. It was something she'd picked up from him. Ashley sighed. He'd _promised_ that he'd be home to meet Spencer.

He'd fucking promised, and now he was acting like it didn't mean anything.

She squeezed her eyes shut and told herself it wasn't anything to be surprised about.

"So, she asked me to spend some time with her tonight. Watch some movies."

Ashley realized how eerily similar their code was.

It was disturbing, really.

The stupidly optimistic side of her wasn't quite ready to give up on their plans. "But, dad… Spencer's here. You said you-"

"Shh, c'mon, babe, knock it off, I'm tryin' to…" there was that woman's laugh again. It turned Ashley's stomach and she tried not to think of all the other times he'd let her down. Ditched her in favor of some random boozing whore who'd spread her legs for anyone that bought her a few drinks. "Sorry, Ash. What were you sayin'?"

She sighed. "Nothing."

"Okay, well-"

She hung up.

* * *

Thunder shook the walls. It rattled Spencer's brain in her skull, made her fists clench around blankets and her eyes squeeze shut and her teeth clack together. Lighting scorched the sky, bringing flashes of light through the window, illuminating the dimly lit room. The pounding rain had not stopped it's sick wet slaps against the roof and trees and everything since it had begun hours ago. Spencer wished she were at home, or someplace where she didn't have to worry about looking like an idiot for being freaked out.

"Shhh," Ashley's embrace did little to slow her beating heart. In fact, it made it pound faster. But, the butterflies in her stomach distracted her from the threat of lighting-strike-induced fires and collapsing houses. Long, slender fingers drawing patterns on the skin just above the waistline of the flannel pajama pants she'd borrowed from Ashley. "Just watch the movie."

Really, not the best suggestion. It had been a terrible decision to agree to_ The Devil's Rejects_. Really, Spencer enjoyed horror movies. But that didn't mean she could handle them. And now was probably the worst time to watch one of them, at least one _like this_.

It was a little after1:40. Kyla had gone to bed shortly after Ashley announced what they were watching. A few hours ago, Spencer had called home and asked permission to stay for the night. The rain was really bad, it was already late, and she'd omitted the fact that Raife wouldn't be home that night. Arthur had hesitated but granted her permission and stated that he would "handle" her mother.

Thunder clapped again, Spencer jumped and the television flickered, once, twice and then the whole room was dark.

Way too dark.

"Ashley?"

She felt warm fingers lace with hers, "Right here, Spence."

And she was indeed _right here _because when she spoke, she pressed closer. Her lips brushed Spencer's ear, and her arms wrapped around her and she could feel Ashley's breasts against her back through the thin cotton of Ashley's t-shirt and Spencer's tank top.

She exhaled a frightened chortle, "This is really creepy."

Ashley chuckled too, her body shaking softly with the laughs. She shifted behind Spencer, hands still clasped reassuringly. "Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Just trust me."

And how was Spencer supposed to do anything else when Ashley squeezed her hand like that?

The room was so dark that she didn't really notice much of a difference besides the fact that she could no longer make out vague outlines of various shapes. Sometime after _Silence of the Lambs _they'd moved the coffee table out of the way and covered the floor with blankets to create a makeshift bed. There was a brief rustle of fabric as Ashley shifted behind her and-

Holy fuck.

Had Ashley just kissed her?

There was moving, and maybe it had just been an accident because they were so close but she'd felt something against the back of her neck - a _soft_ something. _Lip _somethings. And it made heat spring up from her belly and across her cheeks, all the way up to her ears. Her stomach clenched and her heart pounded faster and she felt a little dizzy. Those were lips. What else could they be? But thinking about Ashley's lips was dangerous, especially with the girl so close because really, when she got to thinking about things like Ashley's lips, and her smile, and her hands, and her legs, and _other _parts she'd end up feeling a familiar ache right between-

"Sorry," Ashley's voice was so, so quiet.

Sorry?

Spencer exhaled shakily, "It's okay."

"Open your eyes now."

"What?"

"Open 'em."

And she did but nothing about the room was different. Still no power. Still dark. The coffee table was still shoved up against the ugly orange recliner, magazines lying on the floor where they had spilled over the top when Ashley and Kyla had pushed the heavy wooden object against the chair. The mostly-empty popcorn bowl and pretzel bag and box of Cheeze-Its and empty beer bottles (Spencer had abstained, because , as Ashley had joked "the most alcohol she can handle is a Shirley Temple") and-

Oh.

"Oh."

She could see the dim outline of Ashley's grin. "See? Your eyes just needed to adjust."

"How can you be so…?"

"Hot? Perfect? Fucking awesome?"

"Not freaked out."

Ashley beamed shaking her head before moving close enough to bury her face in Spencer's neck. She drew in a deep breath and spoke against the soft, pale skin there, "Because, Spence… there's a big difference between you and me."

"Oh yeah?" Spencer really didn't mean for her voice to tremble like that. And the blush that stained her cheeks wasn't from heat so much as it was from the pressure between her legs and the way Ashley was _so close_ Ashley could smell the cigarette smoke woven in to the fibers of her t-shirt, and the faint smell of mint toothpaste on her breath, and the other scent that must have been the very essence of Ashley herself because for the life of her she would never be able to describe it.

"Yeah…" Ashley's voice was so low it went straight to Spencer's twisting stomach and set her insides aflame. Ashley's breath hitched for a moment. The tension between them was practically tangible. She could feel something build. Something important, and scary, and exhilarating.

Something that could change _everything_.

"The difference is…"

Spencer closed her eyes.

"I'm…"

Ashley paused. There was nothing but the sound of rain and breathing. Spencer wished she could take that moment and keep it with her forever.

Ashley sighed. "I'm… n-not a totally wuss."

Spencer squeezed her eyes shut tighter. She wanted to draw away from Ashley, but the girl's arms were wrapped too tightly around her for that. She wasn't sure where the crushing disappointment had come from. It was obvious that _wasn't _what Ashley was going to say. But, she couldn't ask. Their friendship was… complicated. Sometimes, there were far too many unspoken rules for Spencer's taste, but she felt that she was in no position to complain. She had imposed most of them.

Spencer sighed into Ashley's curls and pulled the girl tighter.

Lighting flashed. It lit up the room and made Spencer realize how truly alone the two of them were.

Ashley murmured something against her skin, but Spencer didn't understand. She didn't ask the girl to repeat herself.

She pressed her cheek against the top of Ashley's head and closed her eyes, listening to the sound of the rain.

* * *

The silence stretched on for a small forever.

Ashley was certain that Spencer had fallen asleep.

There was a cricket somewhere in her kitchen; the chirping was rare, but loud. The rain had died down a little, still a steady, solid fall, but not quite the violent downpour they'd witnessed earlier.

Spencer's breathing was quiet and shallow. Warm puffs of air against Ashley's skin.

Holding her made Ashley feel like she could do anything.

She sighed against Spencer's neck.

It was late and she really should be sleeping.

--------------------------------------  
TBC  
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* * *

**End Notes:** Chapter's over. I wrote it, and it's good manners for you to review it, now. Just sayin' 

_-Orange_


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